


Advanced Companion Reconciliation

by adorations



Series: Explorations in Post-Canon Adventures [1]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Domesticity, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Los Angeles, M/M, Movie Reference, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pop Culture, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series Finale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Illness, Religious Discussion, Reunions, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorations/pseuds/adorations
Summary: When Troy gets back from his trip, he goes to LA.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Series: Explorations in Post-Canon Adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874791
Comments: 322
Kudos: 627





	1. Introduction to Homecomings

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo...
> 
> i finished community a couple months ago. i watched any and all extras for the show. it became, honestly, a primary coping mechanism. i got very heartbroken by troy leaving again and again. i read everything and imagined every other alternative timeline, and even wrote a few divergent canon things, even though i honestly probably thought i wouldn't really write anything again. but i needed to believe in a reunion that could happen with no canon alteration. and i had a lot of thought about small, off hand character facts/traits/histories that were mentioned in passing, or implied, or explained by writers elsewhere. 
> 
> i started making a little bullet point list of things that would happen when troy came back. i rewatched episodes again and again and noticed more character things that i wondered about. that bullet point list became a rough plot outline, and i started writing it, a very self indulgent thing that i thought for sure would be just for me, just so i could have all my thoughts on explanations for stuff in canon and resolutions for when troy returned. the show went on netflix, more and more people became interested, i was still using it as a form of escapism, and i just kept adding to this. i told myself maybe i would post it, when it was finished. 
> 
> i hit somewhere around 18,000 words and said, okay, maybe i'll post the first chapter and start posting while i work.  
> this is all a very long and pretentious way of saying that this is me being self indulgent and taking a comedy show way too seriously. i can't promise i'll be able to update on a schedule. but i hope you like it anyways. and please read all the other amazing reunion fics on here, they are lovely. if you like this, if you want more, if you have any thoughts at all, please leave a comment or kudos!

Abed should be prepared.

More prepared than any other person would be in this situation, he thought. In the time Troy's been gone, he'd watched countless movies and hundreds of reunion scenes, and while he may not have a full Dreamatorium in LA, he did still possess the predictive knowledge that can only come from observing people for years the way he had and a knack for running what he believed to be fairly accurate simulations in his apartment. He'd gone over the simulations for this day over and over and he'd reread all of Troy's letters and he even rewatched the ending scene of Homeward Bound that morning before driving to the airport.

So Abed should be prepared.

He should not be sitting alone the way he was, scanning the face of every person that went by him, wondering if he'd even still recognize Troy when he got there.

Of course he would, he reasoned. He'd seen Troy since he'd left. Sort of. He'd seen him through a heavily pixelated video chat whenever Troy could dock and find an internet connection, which, admittedly, was not as often as Abed would hope for. And it had been several weeks since their last video call. But Troy's face had always been the easiest for Abed to recognize, even when others were difficult. He had committed it to memory long ago.

However, no matter how beloved Homeward Bound was, Troy was not an old golden retriever with the voice of Don Ameche any more than Abed was a lonely preteen. For all of the reunion scenes Abed had reviewed and despite the image of Troy that steered Abed's simulations, Abed had no real way of accurately predicting how sailing the ocean with LeVar Burton may have changed his friend.

He had the letters, at least, which kept him from spiraling too far. At least so far. The letters came more frequently than video calls did, but not frequently enough to substitute having Troy there in front of him. Abed doubted anything other than having the real Troy in-person would do the trick. The letters gave Abed some sense of Troy's character growth, but with his constantly changing location, Abed had no way to write back. Therefore, a crucial piece of data was missing from his Troy analytics: How Troy would respond to Abed.

So even though Abed should be prepared, he found himself sitting alone, sliding his feet back and forth on the linoleum floor of the airport, fixating on that missing piece.

The friction from his foot on the floor sent vibrations up his whole leg. Abed repeated the motion. He supposed it couldn't hurt to run one last mini-simulation. Or two.

Scenario #1: Troy comes back as a half-cyborg, like Kickpuncher... Or like Troy from the darkest timeline. Abed blinked the scenario away. Unlikely and hopefully not true.

Scenario #2: Troy comes back but he looks at Abed without recognizing him. His time at sea has shown him bigger and better things, and he's subsequently forgotten Abed. That seemed unlikely too, Abed reasoned, pulling on the strings of his hoodie. After all, they had video-chatted just a few weeks ago and Troy remembered him then. Troy sent him letters, with plans and instructions and information on where he'd be docking, and mostly recently, which flight he'd be on. Troy wouldn't send that kind of information if he didn't remember him. He wouldn't make plans to visit someone he didn't know anymore. So, unlikely. 

Scenario #3: Troy comes back and he sees Abed and he recognizes him and they have a conversation but Troy no longer cares. The world and the sea and LeVar Burton have changed him, but not like cloning him and not like when the Inspector reconstructs himself but has so completely changed him that he discovers Abed is of no use anymore -

Without meaning to, Abed jerked his head to the side. That was not a pleasant simulation and he didn't even want to consider how probable it may be. He moved on to the next one.

He was running these last minute simulations so rapidly that when he first saw him, he wasn't sure it was real.

Troy took a few steps closer, his luggage trailing behind him and struggling to carry it. His eyes were fixed on Abed but his eyebrows furrowed, trying to confirm what he saw. Abed blinked and Troy did not disappear.

"Abed?"

It was no simulation. Troy was here. Abed had already rushed to meet him before he even realized he was on his feet.

Troy dropped his luggage to the ground and Abed thought that was a nice detail, to show Troy's lack of concern for material possessions in the face of their reunion. If he were filming this moment, he'd be sure to capture that.

Troy's arms wrapped around Abed, squeezing him warmly and tightly - Abed realized with a start that it had been a long time since anyone had hugged him like that, with their face pressed into his chest and their arms wrapped so tightly. It reminded Abed of the end of a war drama, where the soldier was finally reunited with his family and with his girl, Barbara or Betty or something similar, and the hardships of war could finally end.

Troy pulled away and held out his hand. Abed slapped it, twice, and beat his chest in unison. It felt like stretching old muscles for the first time in years. When he hit his chest, Abed felt a dampness on the front of his shirt.

"You know, I never cry..." Troy said, already wiping at his eyes. He seemed to be aware of the irony of it this time, in a way that he wasn't before. He smiled up at Abed. "Sorry. It's just really good to see you, buddy."

"You don't need to apologize. It's understandable that you're..." Abed's body finally caught up with his mind and a lump formed in his throat, making him choke on his words. "...emotional. We've been separated a long time."

"Too long." Troy's hand rested on Abed's arm. "Too long."

Before he could think about it too much, Abed went in for a second hug. His arms wrapped around Troy's shoulders and he wondered, for a moment, if it was a poor idea. For all of his observation, Abed could never quite be sure when it came to physical contact. He had gotten better, he liked to think, but practice makes perfect, or so said coaches to free-spirited teens in sports movies. With Troy gone and the rest of the study group out-of-state, practice was limited. He almost began to regret the hug and mentally mark it as a poor social behavior on his part when Troy's arms squeezed around him again.

Abed let himself smile into the side of Troy's head. He thought he saw a woman watching them out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't blame her. It was a better reunion than he could've ever asked for. He only wished he had filmed it so he could watch it himself, over and over and over again.

"Your hair is longer," Abed said, centuries later when he finally pulled away. "And you grew a beard to show that time has passed."

"Oh!" Troy's hand flew to his face, rubbing across his chin. It was closer to stubble than a beard, but it was facial hair none the less. "Yeah, I did. I almost shaved it off before we docked. I know you always say-"

"Beards usually indicate an evil character, a lumber jack, or a viking, yes," Abed said. "But every trope has its exceptions. It suits you." And it did. Troy was not incredibly different looking or noticeably evil but he did grow into his looks. He looked older, which Abed knew he had always strived for, while still looking like himself.

Troy preened under Abed's gaze. "Thanks, man."

For a moment, they said nothing and just gazed at one another. Abed took in the sight of him, in the flesh, without a single pixel distorting his face. His eyes looked weary behind the shine of tears, but they watched Abed so intently that if it had been anyone else, he might've felt self-conscious under the gaze. But Abed knew that he must be making the same expression back at Troy, like he was trying to memorize every detail of his face in case it went away again.

He glanced at the bags on the ground. "You need help carrying those to the car?"

"Oh! Yeah, actually," said Troy. "Yeah, that'd be great."

They both had their hands full with his luggage and Troy had one large backpack slung over his shoulder. It was a handful for the two of them to, but Abed still wondered how it was possible Troy managed to fit his entire life into only these suitcases. It had been difficult enough for him to pack up his things and bring them to L.A., and even then he had started buying and replacing the possessions he left behind as soon as he could afford to do so. Troy owned what fit in his bags and nothing else.

"Here," Abed said, popping open his trunk. "This is mine. Whatever doesn't fit in the trunk you can put in the backseat."

"This is yours," Troy said, sounding almost like he was in disbelief.

Abed nodded. "I added stickers to make sure I could always find it."

He was proud of them, too. Some, like the Batman silhouette and the one that made it look like the Indiana Jones boulder was rolling across the window, he had been lucky enough to find in tourist shops downtown. Others, like the one that proudly proclaimed "MY OTHER CAR IS THE X7 TIME BOOTH" and "Bow before Thoraxis!," Abed had spent extra money to have shipped from the official Inspector Spacetime merch store in London. He probably didn't need the stickers; His used Honda civic was nearly 20 years old and its age showed, making it distinctive from nearly every other car he ever parked next to. But he liked having them anyways.

"I can tell." Troy pointed at a Spiderman sticker. "I like that one."

Abed nodded curtly and got into the car. Mental note: Troy still liked Spiderman.

Abed buckled himself in, gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, and turned to Troy. "Troy, there are many things I want to talk about about and many movies I need to catch you up on and a lot of things in LA I want to point out to you, but it is crucial that you do not talk to me while I'm driving around LAX until I say it's okay."

Troy threw his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm cool."

Abed nodded again. "Initiate drive home."

Abed didn't know how long he drove for, only that it was beginning to get dark outside by the time he snapped out of it and that he was glad he had been able to focus on the road. LA driving was difficult to begin with and adding airport traffic did not help. His hands had gripped the steering wheel so tightly that he had to shake them out, one at a time, and even that didn't fully soothe the ache.

"Troy," Abed said into the silence, "I can talk now if you want."

Troy made a sharp humming sound and stretched out his arms. Abed spared a glance at him and saw Troy rubbing his eyes.

"You were asleep."

"Not really," said Troy. "It's fine."

"F-I-N-E or F-Y-N-E?"

"F-Y-N-E." Abed could see Troy smile out of the corner of his eye. "We have a lot to talk about. Number one: You're driving."

"I am."

Troy shrugged. "I guess I'm not used to it. You never drove in Colorado."

"I always could. I just didn't like to do it. But I have to drive to get around L.A.."

"We always used to make Annie drive us around, remember?"

"In her old clunker car," Abed said fondly. "Until you got yours, and then we went to every ice cream shop within a 10 mile radius and I stuck my head out of the sunroof like in Perks of Being A Wallflower, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Troy laughed. "That car was kind of a clunker, too. I kinda feel bad for the guy that took it."

"I'm sure he knew what he was getting into," Abed said. "Mine's not great, but it gets me to work. My biggest complaint is that it doesn't have a sentient mind like Herbie the Lovebug, but there's not much I can do about that."

Troy's eyes grew wide. "That'd be so badass."

"I know. If I can figure out how to do it, I'm doing for it."

"God," Troy said, leaning back against the seat, "I can't believe everyone's gonna be here."

"I can't believe you're here at all."

Troy looked at him seriously. "You know I would always come to see you first. I know what you mean, though, man. It's been a long time."

That wasn't exactly what Abed meant, but he didn't correct it.

Troy leaned just slightly over the middle console and toward Abed. "When do you go back to work?"

"Not for a few weeks. We're in between seasons. But we're getting good reviews and we've been renewed for at least two more, which isn't a lifetime guarantee but it is a good sign for the show."

"That's incredible," Troy said. "You'll have to show me everything. I haven't seen it yet."

Abed considered slamming on the brakes for comedic effect but for safety reasons, decided against it.

"What TV shows have you seen?" Abed asked very seriously.

"TV? Almost nothing," said Troy, and Abed's heart nearly stopped. "And not many movies. Jurassic World. Ghostbusters with girls. The Lego Movie."

"The Lego Movie," Abed echoed happily.

"Soooo cool."

"Everything is awesome," Abed sang. Troy laughed, but he laughed kindly, on the same side of the joke as Abed. "But you're really behind. That is not cool. We have a lot to watch, Troy. There's a new Spiderman. Moonlight won best picture even though they announced La La Land first. There's Inspector Spacetime anniversary episodes."

"And your show," said Troy.

Hearing Troy refer to _Reverie Pursuit_ as Abed's show sent a shiver up his spine. "Of course. Also I was a PA for a few movies. Nothing big but you'd probably like to see those, too."

"Damn!" Troy said. "Of course I would."

"Star Wars, Troy. The Force Awakens!"

"That was the hardest one to miss," Troy said seriously. "LeVar even went and saw it without me. But I wanted to save it to watch with you."

Abed wondered if he should've waited to watch the movie as well.

"I knew you'd have a lot to say about it," Troy continued, "And I knew by the time I got back you'd have a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff for me. I like watching movies with your commentary."

Something sank into place in Abed's chest. "We'll have to have multiple viewings."

"I'd expect nothing else."

Abed pulled over into a parking space on the side of the road and adjusted as needed. "This is where I live. There's no parking garage so make sure you take everything of value into the apartment. I don't want to deal with burglars. The Batman suit needs to be cleaned."

"Damn, Abed," Troy said, admiring Abed's parallel parking. "I couldn't even do that before the trip. And I definitely couldn't do it now. I don't even remember the last time I drove a car..."

"I'm sure you could do it. They say it's like riding a bike, where you were when Princess Diana died, or the final episode of MASH," Abed said. "You never forget."

It's probably not a practical plan to try and carry all the suitcases into Abed's apartment in one trip without letting them touch the ground, but it was a fun plan. They stumbled into the elevator, arms and hands full. Abed noticed Troy's grip slipping on one bag as he leaned against the elevator wall and for a second, Abed thought of yelling out official rules to the game, that the bags couldn't touch the ground because it was...

Lava. He was going to say because the floor was lava. Abed realized with a start that it wasn't. The elevator floor was just the floor, and for the first time in a long time, Abed's mind had categorized The Floor Is Lava as a game, and nothing more.

Troy raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Nothing," said Abed. "One of your bags is slipping."

He did eventually have to put his bags on the ground when they reached the apartment. Abed fumbled with his key in the door.

"305," Troy said, glancing at the number on the door.

"I would've lived in 303 again but it was already occupied. My last apartment was 403, which was close, but not the same."

"Nice neighbors at least? In 303?"

"I think they might be pornstars. I haven't asked though so I don't know for sure." Abed swung open the door. "But they're nice to me when I see them."

Abed walked in and threw the bags he held on the couch. "You can put your stuff here for now." Troy obliged.

Abed's apartment was a small studio apartment that only he lived in. It was the first apartment he had ever lived in that was his and his alone, unless you counted the Greendale dorms. This was a more recent development. He had only moved in to 305 only a few months ago, having lived across town with rotating Craigslist roommates until he could afford to move out. The main room was the most important, as it held his TV, his DVD cabinet, and a makeshift blanket fort that hid his bed from the rest of the room. Across from the door were windows overlooking the street below them, to the left an open door way leading to his kitchen, and to the right a small bathroom. The walls were covered in movie posters and the pictures that used to hang in the hallways of their Colorado apartment. It took an extensive debate with Annie to divide all the pictures evenly, but he had taken his fair share and adorned the new apartment with them. Most of the pictures were of himself and Troy in various costumes and hilarious circumstances, but there was also photos of himself and Annie, smiling at the viewer, Jeff and Britta flipping off the camera, Shirley and her boys, a signed photo of the Dean that had been gifted to him (though he suspected Craig was unaware of Chang photobombing in the background), Frankie, Elroy, and even one photo of Pierce, though it made Abed feel strange every time he looked at it. There were no photos of Hickey and he didn't feel guilty for it, even though he thought that maybe he should.

Then, pressed against the wall closest to where they stood...

"Is that a cage?!" Troy asked, running to it.

"Yes. But don't worry, it's a hamster, not a rat. I know you were scared of them."

"I wasn't scared!" Troy exclaimed. "Okay, I was, but I also used to be scared of lakes and I sailed across the _ocean_. I was scared of spiders and I still went to Australia. Sometimes you grow out of fears."

He nodded to himself. Abed watched him.

"Okay, maybe rats still freak me out sometimes because their tails look like worms and some things are actually really freaky and we should be afraid of them," Troy admitted. "But hamsters don't have that kind of tail so it's okay." He bent down to look in the cage. He smiled. "I used to have a hamster when I was a kid. He was kinda mean, though. I think he was just mad that we had the same name."

"Like your cat and your bird," Abed said. "I remember."

Troy pointed into the cage. "What's his name?"

"Her name is Hamtaro. After the children's series Hamtaro, which is a little misleading since the original Hamtaro was a boy and mine is a girl, but the name fit so well, I couldn't miss the opportunity." Abed sat on the floor next to where Troy crouched. "She has almost the exact same coloring."

"She's cute." Troy held his finger up to the bar and waggled it. Hamtaro approached it hesitantly and sniffed, her tiny nose scrunching up.

"Careful," Abed warned. "I'd let you hold her but sometimes she bites."

"Noted." Troy brought his hand away. "How'd you end up with a hamster?"

"I took care of some birds while you were gone. With Elroy. You don't know him."

"I know of him. I think. Is he the computer programmer or the one who dated the singer Britta likes?"

"Amazingly, both."

"Huh."

"Well, I liked taking care of the birds even though only one lived. That was due to circumstances beyond my control." That was what Elroy had repeated to him over and over, when the birds died and Abed ran out of the RV and wailed and whined and wondered why the mother bird couldn't just come back to the nest. "I liked taking care of Fivel. And I had these stuffed rabbits when I was a kid. I used to pretend they were alive. It made sense to adopt a pet. An animal small enough that it would be happy in my apartment."

"That makes sense. I like her."

"She'll like you, too," said Abed. "If you give her time."

"I should probably unpack," Troy said, rising to his feet.

"Probably. But you can shower and change into something more comfortable first if you want." He pointed at the bathroom.

Troy grinned. "Do you remember when we used Jeff's shower?"

"That was awesome," said Abed. "Mine is nothing like that. Don't get your hopes up."

"It's not on a boat and it's not in a hotel. That's good enough for me." Troy moved to dig through his suitcases. He raised his eyebrows. "Pajamas?"

"Yes," said Abed, jumping up. "Yes. I'm going to change. There's extra towels in the bathroom."

Abed went to his blanket fort. In addition to his bed, there also sat an old dresser he bought from an estate sale. He slid open the top drawer and stared at his pajamas.

When he lived at home with his dad, Abed typically wore just a plain white undershirt and underwear to bed. When he and Troy moved in together, he almost always wore bright, colorful pajama sets to make their antics more visually stimulating for an audience. Also, it just felt more appropriate to wear inside a blanket fort with your best friend. Then, with Troy gone and Abed sleeping in his old room, he started shifting back, usually opting for an oversized graphic tee and printed underwear rather than more obvious pajamas, unless he knew for sure he'd be interacting with Annie or any other people, or if the context demanded something more.

Now he lived alone again, and it was hot in California. For the most part, he wore exclusively graphic tees and underwear, if he ever bothered with a shirt at all. The context rarely demanded more, but now certainly seemed the time to Abed. Besides, he'd feel a little strange wearing almost nothing like that, right off the bat.

The question was what to wear then, if not the usual. There was a purple set of pajamas with little cameras and clappers on them which he had bought from another tourist shop downtown, a plain red shirt with matching plaid pants he rarely wore, and a onesie that looked like Stitch from Lilo and Stitch that Annie had brought him on December 9th last year. Somehow, none of those felt quite right. He reached in for the reliable and previously well worn set of green flannels with spaceships.

By the time he exited the blanket fort, Troy had already emerged from the bathroom. Abed was surprised to see the orange long-sleeve shirt and blue pants on Troy's body, looking familiar, albeit slightly tighter on Troy's frame than Abed remembered.

He tried to form words but was left frozen with his mouth open and ajar.

"You okay?" Troy asked sheepishly.

Abed tried again to speak. "Your pajamas. They're the same," was the best he can do.

Troy gestured to him. "So are yours."

And though it was illogical in every way, Abed suddenly felt so small, standing in his own apartment in front of his best friend. He realized that since moving to 305, he had not had any visitors. By this time tomorrow, it was going to be full of people for the first time since moving in, filled with his family, and of them, Troy was the first. He stood staring at Troy, in those same pajamas he remembered from Colorado, from his dorm room, from their apartment, from Greendale, and it made something stir inside Abed that he didn't know how to interpret. If he had more time, he might try to compare it to a TV show, or call Annie and ask her but he didn't have that time, because Troy was there, standing in front of him, scanning his face and trying to figure out what was going on. Abed didn't have the time to figure out the right response, because Troy was looking at him right then. He thought that he might like to hug Troy or to explain what he's feeling, but he doesn't know if it's appropriate or if he should be used to Troy being back by now, so instead Abed brought his hands to clasp each other in front of himself, like a praying mantis, as Jeff had once described it.

Troy's eyes were a little misty as he stepped forward, taking initiative and once again wrapping his arms around him, pressing his head into Abed's chest. Abed ended up with his hands hovering just above the back of Troy's shoulders. Ultimately, he decided, if Troy had hugged him first then, then within the context, it must be appropriate for him to hug him back. So he let his arms drop to rest on Troy and pulled him in closer.

Troy's hair was still wet from the shower. Abed could smell remnants of soap and shampoo on him, but it wasn't the usual scent that he'd come to expect Troy to smell like. He realized that Troy probably smelled like he did, having used his products for the night. The change in scents made him vaguely uncomfortable, but he consoled himself by remembering that the switch was only possible because he was _here,_ using Abed's shower and standing, a little damp, in his living room.

"I'm sorry," Troy said. "I just really missed you, man."

"You keep apologizing. Why do you do that?"

Abed heard Troy sniffle. "I don't know."

Abed pulled away, looking Troy in the eyes for a moment, but he leaving his hands on Troy's shoulders. "You don't need to apologize. Apologies are for when you've done something wrong or hurtful and you haven't done that."

"Okay." Troy chuckled softly, his shoulders shaking underneath Abed's hands. Abed thought he might've seen a tear fall.

"I'm really glad you're here," he said honestly. "A Troy and Abed sequel was long overdue."

"Abed," Troy replied, "I'm really glad to be here, too."

"You should eat something," said Abed anxiously. "The host always offers the guest something to eat. I should've offered you something right away. That's my fault."

"My bags...?"

"After. This is a priority."

Abed padded into the kitchen and peered into the fridge. "Actually, I'm low on food. I was just going to order a pizza tomorrow and go grocery shopping afterwards. But I have plenty of macaroni and cereal."

"Cereal's fine." Troy sat down at Abed's table. "Just like old times."

Abed poured two bowls of Lucky Charms. "Do you want chocolate milk or regular?"

Troy's jaw dropped. "Dude. Why didn't I ever think of that?"

"I'm assuming you want chocolate milk, then?"

"Um, yes please." Abed finished preparing the bowls, passed one to Troy, and sat next to him.

"I thought of it a few weeks after I moved here. Annie wasn't monitoring the groceries anymore and I only bought chocolate milk for 3 months straight."

"What changed?" Troy asked.

Abed glanced at the floor. "She still visits when she can. And calls. Asks questions. I don't want her to worry more than she has to. Also I had roommates at 403. They usually needed regular milk."

"No more roommates," Troy commented.

"Not at the moment."

Troy took a bite of his cereal and made an audible sound of content. "Man, I wish I had thought of this while I was gone. This would've made a lot of my mornings much better."

Abed cocked his head. "You didn't like the food you ate."

"I liked what I ate when we docked. On the boat though it was mostly just a lot of nonperishables. Which I still don't really get, but the way. Food can't die. Wouldn't it all technically be nonperishable?" He shoveled more cereal into his mouth. "We had really good food in India. And Italy. And crazy candy in Japan. There was pudding shaped liked a butt."

Abed snorted into his cereal. "I bet you loved that."

"You know I did." Troy leaned over and they hit their hands together, reenacting their handshake. "I've never been to LA before today though." He leaned back in the chair to stare out the kitchen window and pushed back the blinds with his fingers. "Dude, you can see palm trees from your window. It's like a movie."

Abed nodded vigorously. "It's almost the perfect skyline. The only problem is the pollution affects the stars at night. You can't see nearly as many stars as you can in the movies or in the country."

"It's still a nice view," Troy said, still gazing out the window.

Abed finished his cereal, reached for Troy's now empty bowl, and moved to place them in the sink. "I can help you unpack," he said with his back turned. "Would you rather watch Inspector Spacetime or Reverie Pursuit while we do it?"

He turned around to catch Troy in mid-yawn. "Your show!" he managed to say through the yawn.

Abed shook his head.

"You're yawning. You're tired."

"It's just from the time zone changes. And the flight and customs and everything just wore me out. I can watch." He sat up straighter. "I want to watch."

"But you're tired. We'll have plenty of time to watch it tomorrow before everyone else gets here. I don't know why you won't let yourself sleep if you're tired."

Troy shifted in his seat. "I don't want to leave my shit all over your apartment."

"It's not all over my apartment, it's on the couch," Abed insisted. "Go sleep on the bed in the blanket fort."

"I should've gotten here earlier," Troy rambled. "I would've gotten here sooner, I swear, we just had to meet with some of Pierce's lawyers and representatives after we docked, to make sure I hit all of his check points, I guess. I got on the first flight I could, I promise."

"I believe you. You're here, that's the most important part." Abed sat back down at the table. "Take the bed and sleep. You'll need the energy for tomorrow."

Troy opened his mouth as if to argue, then quickly closed it again and sighed. "Thanks, buddy."

"You're welcome. Goodnight, Troy. And sweet dreams," he added after a moment, when he decided that just goodnight didn't cut it after all the time they had spent apart. He wanted to perform a much longer monologue, something from Inspector Spacetime or even from Shakespeare, telling Troy to sleep well and that he was so glad he was here and that he couldn't wait for the morning, but he figured that would be a lot to unload right then. So he held back. Goodnight and sweet dreams was safe enough.

For reasons Abed wasn't sure of, Troy gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned to leave. "Goodnight, Abed."

Abed stayed to do the dishes, mostly because he would be having the study group over the next day and he didn't own that many bowls. He doubted that they'd even use the bowls tomorrow, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Britta could be a bit of a wildcard after all.

And he wanted to show them that he could manage the apartment, he thought, putting the dishes back. They had seen his last LA apartment, but that somehow felt different. This was entirely his own, and he suddenly felt the need to demonstrate that he was doing it successfully, and doing it himself. Abed wondered if that was how Troy felt, all those years ago in Colorado. Annie would be proud of him if she could hear that deduction. Empathy. Contrary to seemingly popular belief, he did possess empathy, and always had. It was more about recognizing when he was using it, and shaping social interactions accordingly.

He pulled out his phone for the first time since picking up Troy from the airport.

There's over 100 new texts in their group chat, as well as several personal texts from Britta and a missed call from Annie. Abed only had to glance at a couple to know they were badgering him to know how Troy was, or in Jeff's case, pretending that he didn't care as deeply as he did and slowly becoming more anxious as the day went on. Abed didn't have the energy to scroll through them all.

_hello, everyone. troy is here and is doing very well. we are developing a movie watch-list. he's asleep right now. we are very excited to see you tomorrow. does anyone have pizza topping requests?_

Typing "we" as in Troy and Abed, the singular unit, gave him the same little jolt as did saying "my show." He resolved to do so again, whenever he got the chance.

He typed out a direct text to Annie.

_you've been on my mind a lot today. i'm excited for the roommates reunion. we both are. just like old times. :)_

He added a smiley face even though it still didn't make a lot of sense to him and he ultimately thought they were a little ridiculous. He knew Annie liked them. He thought she'd be proud of that one as well.

He made his way back to the main room. His eyes landed on his DVD cabinet, and he knew what was in there, hidden behind all the DVDs... No. Abed would not deal with that tonight. He wouldn't even think about it. _That_ was a lot, even more than any Shakepearean monologues or any extra hugs Abed may perform. Troy didn't need to see it, so Abed didn't need to think about it.

He was beginning to feel the pull of sleep behind his eyes, and he knelt down by the couch to begin sorting through the bags. He could unpack it for Troy, as a gesture, and then he could sleep on the couch.

Abed glanced back at the blanket fort where Troy - Troy Barnes, Butts Carlton, T-Bone, The Disco Spider, world traveler, _his_ Troy - was sleeping. Abed resolved to unpack as quietly as possible.

"Abed." Troy's voice cut through the room. Abed jumped. "Abed, you don't have to sleep out there."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mere."

Abed poked his head into the blanket fort to find Troy curled up under his duvet, looking comfortable, but as awake as ever. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"I'm working on it," Troy fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. "I'm used to the boat."

"Oh," said Abed. "I see."

"You don't have to sleep out there, Abed. It's your apartment, and all my shit is still out there..." Troy bit his lip. "Just sleep here."

"Okay." Abed climbed into the bed next to Troy. Abed laid flat on his back with his hands at his side. They weren't touching at all, but he remembered Troy telling him once that he spread out like an octopus in his sleep. He wondered if that was still true, if he would be inadvertently taking over the bed during the night and if Troy even remembered making this observation in the first place.

Troy shifted under the covers and broke Abed from his thoughts.

"I still can't believe you're here," Abed said, because he couldn't.

"I can't believe it either. I spent all this time traveling and now I'm here." In his peripheral, Abed could see Troy turning on his side to face him, but Abed's eyelids were growing heavier with every passing moment.

"We've got a lot of time to make up for," Abed mumbled with all the energy he had left.

"I can't wait," said Troy.

The last thing Abed remembered before drifting to sleep was Troy whispering "Abed, I have _so_ much money now," and oh. _Oh._ Abed had almost forgotten about that part.


	2. Familial Reunification and Theoretical Astrological Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the study group arrives in LA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers for The Force Awakens. not sure how that happened. please please comment with any thoughts u may have!

They were halfway through season 2 of Reverie Pursuit when the doorbell rang for the first time. 

It wasn't a surprise, because Abed had been checking the group text all day. He knew, therefore, what time everyone's flights were arriving in LA. Then when he factored in time for them to check into hotels (Jeff, Britta, and Shirley), get distracted in the airport (likely Annie and Shirley) and call an Uber (all of the above), any one of them could be arriving any minute now.

"We're not going to pick them up?" Troy asked him when he first relayed the plan. 

"My car wouldn't fit everyone," Abed replied. "And that way I don't have to go back and drive around the airport again."

"That bad, huh?."

"There's a lot of traffic. I prefer not to do it if possible. I like driving more when it's less crowded."

Troy stared at him like he was trying to understand what he was saying. "But you picked me up. I could've gotten an Uber or something."

"Let's keep watching the show," Abed said, and pressed play on the remote.

So it's not a surprise when several minutes later, the doorbell rang, but Abed still felt a rush of adrenaline as he raced to answer the door.

"Hello!" Shirley cooed, dragging out the word as long as she could and rushing into the apartment with open arms. "Oh, Abed, you sweet boy."

"Hello, Shirley," Abed said softly. He barely had time to process her arms thrown around his torso before she'd flung herself at Troy. 

"Troy Barnes, come here!" She wrapped him in a hug as well, caressing his back of his head and side-eyeing the beard. "So grown up!"

She reached her hand out to pull Abed in again, wrapping the both of them into one group hug. "Oh, my babies."

"We're your babies now?" Troy asked almost jokingly. 

"Troy." She put a hand on the side of his face and at looked him straight on. "You've always been my babies."

Troy shied away from her words, turning his head to the ground. 

"But I do have lots of pictures of my _biological_ babies for you to see," Shirley continued, guiding them further into the apartment. "And I have other things for you! Now I know you're not religious, exactly..." She reached into her purse and pulled out two cards. "...but I'm not exactly Catholic and I still used these while you were gone."

She handed him the first card. "This is a prayer card for Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost things." Troy gave a startled chuckle and Shirley pulled out the second card. "And this is a prayer card for Saint Joseph, Mary's husband, patron saint of family and the home." She held his hands as she passed off the cards. "So you can always find your way back. Now, in my opinion, the Catholics may be focusing a little too heavily on the saints, but it brought me peace of mind."

"Shirley," said Troy, "It's really good to see that you haven't changed."

"Oh, that's nice," she said in a familiar, sing-song tone. She pulled a small painting from her bag as well. "Abed, my friend Gary has a niece who does paintings, so I commissioned this for you. It's Hagar and Sarah from the Old Testament and they're hugging to represent religions converging." She said it with a giggle, as if her casual acceptance were not a sign of strong development. "Because otherwise Hagar gets misrepresented and that's not very kind, is it?"

Abed thought about telling her that time had not made him anymore religious than he had ever been (except for that one week he went off the rails making a Jesus film and Shirley had to stop him, but Abed considered that an outlier). But the gesture was kind, the meaning transcended. It was almost an Abed-level of media analysis, but of the Bible, which was classic Shirley. That in itself was a convergence. And it was a nice painting. 

"I can put this on the wall, Shirley. Thank you."

"That's nice." She laughed again, seeming giddy at seeing them both. She dug in her purse for her phone. "Troy, my boys had a little something they wanted to say to you..."

She pressed play on a video and held the phone up for Troy. Abed craned his neck. There was Jordan, Elijah, and with a shakier sense of the English language, Ben, jumping for joy and shouting "Welcome back, Troy!" Ben must have found this incredibly funny, as he shrieked and fell to the ground laughing.

"God, Shirley," Troy said, "They've gotten so big."

"So have you! I mean look at you, you've grown!" She turned to Abed. "And don't think I've forgotten about you. Fancy young man, fancy new apartment."

"It'd be okay if you did, Troy just got back from sailing the world and you've been to my previous living spaces. Troy's the central figure here." 

She tutted, and grabbed his arm familiarly. "Well, I still think you've done a nice job with the apartment. Just for the record."

Abed grinned.

"What else are your kids up to, Shirley?" Troy asked, and Shirley's eyes lit up. 

"I think you may regret asking that," Abed quipped. He didn't mean it, of course. He'd rather hear about Shirley's kids than ever have to see her in a custody battle again. But he couldn't pass up the comedic moment.

"Never," said Troy, at the same time Shirley said, "Now Abed, I know you would never say anything even remotely against my babies," underneath her breath. 

To Troy's credit, he really did seem to hold interest looking at every single picture of Shirley's kids, of her home in Atlanta, her father, and of Detective Butcher. Abed is particularly focused on those pictures, as he's still trying to develop a more stable season arc for Shirley's spin-off. Troy listened intently to every story, asking questions and nodding when Shirley said "Oh, Troy, you're gonna get your turn, I have a lot of questions for you, but first I just have to show you-" every time she swiped at her phone to showcase a new picture. 

They were still catching up on Shirley's photos when the doorbell rang again. This time the door flew open before Abed could cross to answer it. 

"Hello!" Britta called out in the apartment. "The doctor is in!" 

At these words, Abed momentarily wondered if Britta was the Lucy of their study group's Peanuts dynamic. He always felt like the Woodstock (or perhaps Snoopy), but what were the others? Britta could be Lucy in that she was often loud, and sometimes spoke uncomfortable truths— Not the time. He could examine that later. Abed refocused on the people in front of him. 

"She's not a doctor," said Jeff, stepping in behind Britta. His eyes landed on Troy and brightened. "Troy Barnes."

He hugged Troy the way fathers did on T.V., a subsection of television hugs Abed had analyzed in depth when he was younger, with both arms, one clapping the child (often a son) on the back. 

"It's good to see you out of Colorado," said Troy, which Abed didn't get, but Jeff seemed to understand. 

"I've worked up to it. It's good to see you in America."

Britta stepped in to hug him. "Troy."

"Britta."

Abed found himself examining their hug. While it was close and joyful, there didn't seem to be any other indications of romantic attachment. He felt a rush of relief. Even though he knew that Troy and Britta were over, it was good to confirm that their character arcs weren't overlapping romantically anymore. 

"You're the best," Troy said, and Jeff moved to hug Abed. Oh, yeah. Abed had almost forgotten he was in the scene and not just observing. 

"It's good to see you, buddy," Jeff said in Abed's ear, just low enough that it was hidden from the rest of the room. 

"That would've been written as an aside in a screenplay."

"Shut up, Abed."

Britta crashed into him next, almost squealing with excitement. "Abed! Your place."

He nodded. "My apartment."

"It's nice! It's very... you."

"Um, excuse me," said Shirley, "I know that you haven't forgotten that I'm also here and that I haven't seen you in a long, long time."

"Shirley," Jeff said, embracing her as well. "Glad to see you haven't lost your talent for guilting people."

"We brought alcohol," Britta said when Shirley released her from her grasp. "Like, a lot. Maybe more than we should have."

"Awesome," Troy said at the same time Abed said "That's fine. I'll put it in the kitchen."

"Your kitchen," said Britta, tagging along after him.

He'd already given Britta a tour, recommended 3 new series to Jeff, introduced them all to Hamtaro, and observed the ensuing argument that occurred when they sat down to decide on pizza toppings (even though he asked them ahead of time for this very reason) when the doorbell rang for a third time. 

Abed rushed to the door. He knew that no matter how badly she wanted to burst through the door, she would wait until he opened it for her. 

"Abed!" Annie cried out happily. She threw herself at him.

"Your hair is curly," Abed didn't mean to say. His arms tightened around her.

"Oh! That," she said. "I stopped straightening it. I started the curly girl method, and-"

"Annie," said Troy, and suddenly they were inseparable. "You look so... professional," he said with his chin resting on the top of her head.

"What about you?" Annie said, stepping back and taking him in. She wiped at her eyes. "You look like... An experienced sailor."

"Yeah, he's a regular sea-man," said Jeff. Troy cackled. "Annie."

"Jeff." Annie reached in to hug Jeff this time. Abed saw them linger on each other a moment, longer than Troy and Britta, but they were doing better, Abed thought. They were surviving apart. 

Annie brought them all D.C. themed gifts and for Abed, it's the West Wing boxset, and while it couldn't be exclusively found in D.C., it was still an excellent gift in Abed's opinion. He put it away with the rest of his DVDs, and did not think about what was tucked away in the cabinet behind them.

Abed realized (a bit too late, because he realized it when they were all gathered in his living room) that the couch will not fit all 6 of them. They moved to the kitchen, and he suddenly felt very glad he had bought 6 chairs for the kitchen table when he moved in, even though it took up the precious space he had so little of. They're sat there, listening to Troy's travel stories when the pizza arrived.

"I can get it," Troy said. 

"No!" Abed shot out of his seat. "No. I will."

"Huh," Jeff said as Abed sped to the door. "Guess he's done with all the timeline talk then."

Not quite, Abed thought as he dealt with the pizza man. It wasn't that he no longer believed in the possibility of different timelines, it was that he had simulated them so thoroughly and he knew, therefore, the terrible possibilities of Troy leaving to get the pizza. 

Abed brought the pizza back to the table and they tore open the box. 

"Ew, Abed! Olives? Really?" Annie complained. 

"Don't look at me," Abed said. "Jeff won rock paper scissors fair and square. And it's only half. I don't like the olives either. 

Britta stood to grab one of the bottles of wine she and Jeff had brought. "Abed, do you own any wine glasses...?" she asked, eyeing the cabinets. 

"Glass _es_ , no. A wine _glass_ , however..." He watched as Britta opened the correct cabinet and her eyes settled on the assortment of silverware there. "Yes."

"I see," said Britta. "We'll have to get creative."

She began pulling out different mugs and pouring red wine into them. 

"That is blasphemy," Jeff said. 

"Interesting choice of words," Shirley muttered.

"You don't have to do that, Britta. You're a guest," said Abed. 

"Please. I can handle the alcohol. It's my job, I'm basically a professional. And Troy's the special guest, so he gets the real wine glass," said Britta, setting it down in front of him. "Executive decision."

For Abed, she brought him a mug that said _WARNING: May randomly start talking in movie quotes._

"You have wine with dinner," Troy murmured to Abed while Britta passed out the rest of the drinks.

"Sometimes." He did drink, occasionally, when the context or environment called for it. Fancy restaurants, breakfast club reenactments, group outings to places like bars, and once, when he was much younger, he had attempted to create an Emmys drinking game but didn't follow through with it. In the last few years, he let himself consider his mental and emotional state as part of the context and drank just a little bit more often. Altering his brain chemistry was easier to do when he could control the intake, and sometimes, as long as he had that control, it was nice to forget whatever was bothering him. "It depends on the context."

Troy hummed in response. 

"This just feels wrong," Jeff said, holding his mug.

Britta had given him one that read "Die Hard is a Christmas Movie," and herself an outline of Tommy Wiseau's face and the phrase "Oh Hai Mark." Annie received an old "Troy and Abed in the Morning" mug, and Shirley a mug with the Friends' names on it that was filled with chocolate milk instead of wine. 

"Oh, that's nice."

"You should see the drinks she makes at home," Jeff said. "I mean, they're pretentious and way more complicated than they need to be, but they're not bad."

"You're living together?" Troy questioned. 

Britta made a face. "Not like that."

"Britta needed a better place to stay. It was getting a little sad to watch her, otherwise." Abed figured that Jeff must've been pretty lonely by himself, too, but he didn't say that.

"Britta, Jeffery, you should be careful," Shirley said. "Cohabitation can lead to drugs and _relations_ outside of marriage."

This time both Jeff and Britta made a face. 

"Yeah, right. Britta wishes. That ship has sailed." Jeff glanced at Troy. "No pun intended."

"Ignore his smug attitude, it's not happening," Britta asserted. "And Shirley, that is so unfair. You never said anything like that to Annie! Or Abed. Or Troy. Jeff and I are being unfairly targeted."

"I did say that to Annie, many times!"

Annie's cheeks tinged pink. Abed thought it was odd that Shirley had that talk with Annie but not with himself. And Abed had been living with other study group members even longer than Annie had and still, he never got the relations talk. Strange. 

"I'm just glad my cats have more space," Britta said.

"I cannot believe Jeff agreed to that," said Troy, shaking his head. 

"They're on thin ice, believe me." Jeff took a long sip from his mug. "But let's not focus on my impending doom when our dear friend was telling us about the world. There's more important things."

"I don't know about that," Troy said, picking at his pizza.

"What were you saying about Manila?" Britta asked. 

"Oh! While we were in the Mall of Asia these kids came up to us because they recognized LeVar, and they were taking pictures with him and then they wanted selfies with me." Troy smiled. "Not because I was famous or anything, they just thought I was cool. And then I got lost. That place is seriously huge."

"I can't believe how much you've seen," Shirley said. "I mean, I just have a thousand questions."

"Alright," Troy said. "Try me." 

"Is Greece as gorgeous as it is in the movies?" Annie cut in. "I always loved the second Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants."

"It's beautiful." 

"The women?" Jeff asked. 

"Also beautiful."

"What about Morocco?" Britta asked. "I've always wanted to go."

Troy tilted his head. "To protest human rights issues?"

"...Yes," Britta covered. "I know all about what's going on there."

"Well, you'll be busy," Troy said, "But the people were nice to us."

"Tell us your favorite part, Troy," Shirley asked. "I want to know what you liked."

Troy thought about it. "Madagascar is not like the movie, which was disappointing, but I got to see lemurs and even though they didn't sound like Borat, they were pretty badass. They're like monkeys, but even better."

Abed leaned over to Troy to do their handshake. Lemurs did sound pretty badass. 

"Italy was pretty cool too," Troy said, "and most of them really do talk with their hands. Also Egypt, but they didn't really like me asking about Ancient Aliens."

"I don't blame them," said Shirley. 

"The truth is out there," Abed muttered.

"Troy," Annie said hesitantly. "We're just really glad you're okay. We were so worried about you when we heard about the pirates..."

A harsh silence fell over the group.

Abed couldn't even begin to predict how the conversation would go from there. He had no data on how the 6 of them would talk about the pirate incident, because they had never really done it. 

Abed remembered the day he found out, more than a week after Troy's actual kidnapping. He blamed himself for being distracted with Kickpuncher remakes, Bloodlines of Conquest and dates to the dance. And the whole group felt similarly awkward about the Wisconsin Bear Attack/Fat Dog incident that they avoided the news for a little while. He had been back at the apartment, rubbing his wrist where Hickey's handcuffs had dug into his skin the day before, and channel surfing. He landed on the news station and caught a glimpse of the headline. The National Guard was making negotiations to retrieve LeVar Burton and a non-celebrity companion from pirates in the Gulf of Mexico.

The details of what happened next were hazy. Abed remembered Annie rushing into the room and a high-pitched sound he later realized was coming from himself. He remembered Annie sobbing over the phone, informing the others, and locking himself in the bedroom for 5 straight days. He remembered people trying to come and see him and Annie turning away everyone at the door, even Rachel. He remembered Annie finally telling him that it was over, that Troy was okay, and he remembered not fully letting go of the breath he had been holding until he finally got a letter from Troy, weeks later. 

He remembered Annie hugging him and weeping, tears of joy that time, but he didn't remember any conversation about it with any of them beyond that point, Troy included.

Now, Troy's eyes went dark. He downed the rest of his wine in one large gulp. 

"We're just so glad you're okay," said Shirley. 

"I'm glad, too," said Troy. He wasn't looking at any of them.

Abed wondered if he should say something. He didn't know what to say, even if he should.

"What I want to know," Jeff said, expertly changing the subject, "is what you're going to do with the the money."

Every member of the group sat forward in their seats. Jeff continued. "I mean, elephant in the room. We were all thinking it right? You're rich now."

"Honestly? I have no idea," Troy joked. The tension released from the room. Annie giggled. 

"I can think of a few things," Jeff said. 

"Yeah, I'm sure you could," said Shirley lowly.

"But that reminds me," Troy said, leaving the room. He returned a few moments later with his hands full. "I did get gifts for you while I was gone."

"Aw!" Shirley and Annie cooed in unison. 

"Glad to see you still know how to spend money on me," Jeff said as Troy passed out the gifts. "That's a valuable skill, don't ever lose that."

"Open the cards last," Troy said. "That's important."

Troy had brought Abed a limited edition Inspector Spacetime comic book that was only printed in Portugal in 2009, which Abed had been trying to track down for years. In addition, Troy had given him a few extra gifts and told him with a wink not to tell the others. He had also brought him a replica of the Inspector's hat straight from London, a bag of assorted candies from Vietnam, and a set of decorative wooden Easter Eggs from Poland, just like the ones his mother used to have. Abed would lay them out on the carpet and organized them by shape and color while his mother watched him. He didn't think that he ever told Troy about that, and still Troy had found the eggs for him. 

But Abed had received all of those gifts in the morning before everyone else had gotten there. He still had an envelope with his name scrawled across in Troy's handwriting, but Abed figured he would wait for everyone else to catch up before he opened it, in the name of visual symmetry. 

Annie was admiring what Abed knew was an Italian leather-bound notebook, because Troy got too excited and told Abed about it ahead of time. Britta excitedly unwrapped a dream book from the Sigmund Freud Museum in Vienna. Jeff had a set of high-end skincare products from South Korea he was intently reading the labels for, and Shirley was excitedly fawning over a hand-carved crucifix from Kenya. 

Somewhere in the middle of this, Abed was torn from his thoughts because Britta yelled "Oh my _god_. Troy..."

She held the contents of the envelope in trembling hands. The rest of the group scrambled for their own cards, Abed included. He pulled out... a check. 

With a lot of zeros. 

Abed's mouth suddenly felt very dry. 

"Troy," Jeff said. "I was joking about spending money on me."

"Sweet Baby Jesus!" Shirley clutched her heart. 

"What's wrong?" Troy asked. "I thought you'd be happy."

"Troy, there's no way we can accept this much money," said Britta. "It's yours, you've earned it."

"It's not all of it. But it's enough for you to be satisfied with, I hope."

"It's more than that," Jeff murmured. 

"Look," Troy said. "This money came from Pierce. It wasn't right of him to give it all to one person. You've earned it by being yourselves and by being his friend all those years. I talked it through with the lawyers and I've had a lot of time to think about this. I want you to have it." He nodded decisively. "And of course, I'm still going to keep most of it. I did sail around the world for this. But you all deserve a part."

"Abed," Annie said, her voice shaking. "Say something."

Abed set the check down on the table. He looked at Troy. "We can rent a lot of movies with this money."

Troy laughed warmly. "We can do a lot more than just rent them, buddy."

The next thing Abed knew, the entire table had erupted into laughter and shouts of joy. 

Britta yelled, "I'm rich!" and then "Shots!" and Abed's swallowing a shot of vodka before he can further assess the scene. 

"I cannot believe you," Jeff said with a hand on Troy's shoulder. 

"My kids are going to go to college!" Shirley cheered. "And I'm going to the spa..."

"Troy Barnes," Annie whispered wistfully in Troy's ear from where she positioned herself behind him, her arms wrapped around his chest, rocking him back and forth just slightly. 

The next several hours are a bit of a blur. They cheered and danced and threw back a few more drinks. Abed could only imagine what his neighbors must think - other than the occasional loud-volume movie his apartment was near silent. He didn't hear any neighbors comically banging on his walls with a broom, and he can't think of any other way they would reasonably contact him. They never came right up to his door before. 

It's probably for the better if none of his neighbors tried to get them to quiet down, because he wouldn't know how to stop Britta from screaming alternative lyrics from Stacy's Mom and Jessie's Girl, none of which matched the actual song playing from Abed's old boombox, Come On Eileen. She stood up on Abed's couch, held Shirley's hands and pushed them back and forth as they sang to each other. 

"At this moment, you mean everything!" Shirley sang sweetly.

"She's got it goin' on..." Britta slurred loudly and off-key. "Where can I find a woman?!"

It occurred to Abed that while the edges of his vision were just beginning to blur, Britta was much drunker than he was. 

Annie was giggling and repeatedly pulling Troy and Abed back onto Abed's carpet which now doubled as a dance floor. She attempted to twirl them both at the same time, but struggled, being shorter than both of them. They crashed into each other and Annie struggled to keep her balanced and fell. Troy caught her, laughing, and Abed smiled. 

"Close call," Jeff said from the sidelines where he was, admittedly, bouncing to the music at the very least. 

Just then, Britta tripped and fell off the couch and into Shirley's arms. 

"Oh, hello," said Shirley, completely sober. 

"Okay," said Jeff distantly. "I think we need to go back to the hotel and sleep it off."

"I think," Troy said, rushing to help Shirley support Britta, "that's probably a good idea."

Britta barked out a laugh and reached out to smush Troy's cheeks. "You are so nice."

They end up on the sidewalk, watching over Shirley, Britta, and Jeff as they wait for an Uber. The cool air hit Abed's face and gave him an extra push of energy. And he needed it, if he wanted to keep Britta from continuing her song and technically qualifying as a street performer. 

The three of them took an UberPool because Shirley understandably didn't want to be in a stranger's car alone at night. Britta was the last one to get in the car, still singing, and Abed felt bad for the driver who probably didn't have earplugs. 

Britta stopped before fully relaxing into the seat and she stumbled back out of the car.

"Britta, get back here!" Jeff called after her. 

"You are a powerful woman," Britta said, cupping Annie's face in her hands. "I am so proud of you," she said, holding Abed. And to Troy, with the tightest hug she could muster, "I am so glad you're back." With that, she got back into the Uber and left. 

"Is it just me," Annie started, "or is anyone else nowhere near as drunk as she was?"

"It's not just you," said Troy. 

"I'm a 3 on a scale of 1 to 10," Abed said. "We should watch The Force Awakens now that it's the three of us. I've been waiting."

"This day just keeps getting better," said Troy. 

Abed wanted to stay silent for Troy's first viewing of the movie. He really did. But the movie began, the score picked up and filled the room and Abed barely made it 3 minutes before he was babbling about the actors, the cinematography, the lore. He blamed his loose lips on the alcohol setting into his system. 

Troy and Annie similarly blamed the alcohol for their strong reaction to Han Solo's death scene, but Abed thought it could just be the emotional nature of the scene. Troy gripped Abed's arm tightly throughout the whole thing but kept his eyes fixed on the screen. Annie on the other hand, seated on the opposite side of Troy, averted her eyes and choose instead to stare at Abed. 

"I cannot believe he did that to Han!" Troy exclaimed, flopping back onto the couch the second the credits rolled. 

"Harrison Ford," said Annie sadly. She slid on to the floor and laid on her back.

"Abed, I don't even want to know what you looked like when you saw that in theaters," Troy said. "I know how you feel about Han Solo." 

"My admiration of Harrison Ford has been well documented," Abed agreed. "It was not a pretty sight."

"Rey is such a badass."

"She's a good protagonist to lead the next two films," said Abed. "It's a good trio."

"One, two, three," Annie said, pointing at each of them. 

"You could do a good Poe Dameron, Abed," Troy said. 

"He could. He does Han Solo really well, I've seen it," Annie said a bit too excitedly. 

"So have I," Troy reminded her. 

Abed mulled it over. "They do have a similar charm and smoothness." He unzipped his hoodie and threw it to Troy. "Keep it," he said, quoting the movie. "It suits you."

Troy wordlessly put the hoodie on over his pajamas. Abed knew that it must not fit him right, but Troy wore it anyways. 

"Ugh," Annie said. "And here I thought chivalry was dead."

"What about the handsome man from Bumble?" Abed wondered outloud.

"The what?" Troy asked. 

"Nothing. It's nothing. Just a guy I went on a couple dates with, nothing serious," she filled Troy in. "He just... I think I'm done with Bumble for now. It's complicated, dating and working." She pointed at Abed. "You know how it is."

"Why does he know how it is?" Troy asked.

And though he hadn't been lying, Abed suddenly felt like he'd been caught.

"Because of Rachel," Annie said. "Life happens sometimes. It gets in the way."

"Okay, I cannot stress enough how much I do not know what you guys are talking about."

Annie eyes went wide. 

"I broke up with my girlfriend when I moved to LA." Abed fixed his eyes on the ground.

"Your girlfriend."

His mouth went dry. "Yes. Rachel. From the coat check at the Sophie B. Hawkins Dance. You met her."

Troy looked like he was searching his brain. "...Right."

"We reconnected at a Fat Dog-slash-Bear Down for midterms dance. Then we dated but we had to break up."

Troy looked bewildered. "Why?"

"The distance. I was applying to jobs in LA." It's technically the truth but it burned Abed's tongue as if it wasn’t. He stared at Troy, who remained his best friend after years apart and felt like he was lying. "It just wasn't going to work."

Troy's mouth hung wide open as he stared at Abed. 

"I'm sorry, Abed," said Annie. "I shouldn't have brought it up. I know it's a sore spot."

"It's okay. It had to happen. And she got a job in Denver and she always wanted to live in the city so she's okay." He nodded to show them he was fine. 

"You still talk to her?" Troy asked.

"No," said Abed, "not anymore. I texted her a few times after I moved to see how she was doing. I don't think she really wanted to talk to me anymore. She was probably trying to move on with her life."

"That's not important right now," Annie said. She got back on the couch and wiggled herself in between the two of them. "What's important is that we're all here."

When she finally got settled, her head was resting on Troy's lap and her legs stretched over Abed's. One of her hands squeezed Troy's and the other provided a light, comforting weight on Abed's knee. 

"It's like a reboot," Abed said, overcome with nostalgia at the sight of the three of them watching movies in their pajamas. "But hopefully with better ratings than the Charlie's Angels reboot from 2011."

"Please," Troy said, stroking Annie's hair familiarly. "We'd run circles around them. We're funnier, we're more interesting, we're just as good looking..."

“That might be overselling us.”

“Never.”

"We've probably got just as much money now," Annie said. "Troy, I cannot believe you did that."

"I still can't believe I have any money at all," he said quietly. "After all that time working towards it, it doesn't even feel real."

"Well, you earned it," Annie said.

"So did you. I meant that."

Annie shook her head. "I don't even know what to do with that much money."

"Tell me about it," Troy sighed. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

"I'm gonna get myself a _nice_ dinner tomorrow. And move out of Brentwood." Annie squeezed Abed's knee. "How about you?"

"I'm definitely going to Inspecticon next year. And I'll figure something out for the rest of it. I'd like to get it all in cash and roll in it like a cartoon but that's probably not practical."

"Maybe not," Troy said, "But I don't know what else to do with it."

"One day at a time. We'll figure it out." Annie yawned. "Abed, am I sleeping here?" She gestured to the couch.

"As long as that's okay," Abed said. "Otherwise I can take the couch and you and Troy can have my bed. Or Troy can-"

"I'm fine here." Annie grinned. "Thanks."

"Hold on." Abed ran to the kitchen and returned with 3 glasses of water balancing precariously in his hands. He handed one to Annie, one to Troy, and kept one for himself. "I need you guys to be alert tomorrow because there's a lot I want you to see."

"Good thinking," Troy said, sipping from the glass. 

"Oh, look at us," Annie said. "You two in your blanket fort. God, I can't believe we're all here."

"We'll let you sleep now, Annie. Goodnight."

She individually gave them both a hug and a goodnight kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight. See you tomorrow."

Inside the blanket fort, they didn't speak as they settled under the covers. Abed laid flat on his back again, with his hands at his sides. He never did figure out if he had spread out like an octopus during the night. Troy was up and awake before Abed, and he forgot to ask. 

Abed was taking slow, deep breaths and trying to lull himself to sleep when Troy's whisper cut through the night. 

"You had a _girlfriend._ " His voice shook and it rattled Abed to his core. 

"I don't anymore."

"You never told me."

Abed didn't want to roll over to look at Troy because he didn't want to see the look on his face that he's sure rivaled all the top betrayal scenes. "I didn't think it was relevant to our personal plot lines."

"You know you can tell me anything."

Abed nodded. His hair rustled against the pillow. "And you can tell me anything."

Troy sighed and Abed thought he must have missed whatever point Troy was trying to make. 

"Goodnight, Abed," Troy said softly.

"Goodnight, Troy."

"Sweet dreams."

***

"Do you think Orlando Bloom could see us from his house?" Britta asked as they stepped off of the _Hollywood Tours_ bus they had been riding.

"Oh, for sure," Jeff said sarcastically. Britta winced at his sudden volume from behind her large sunglasses. "And he not only saw you, Britta, he fell in love at first sight and wants to ask for your hand." 

"Stranger things have happened," Britta shot back.

Abed tapped Troy's arm. "You need to see Stranger Things. I'm adding it to the list."

"Nice," Troy said. "I kept hearing people talk about Eleven and I need to know if there's 10 other characters I should also care about."

"...Right." Abed figured Troy would figure it out on his own.

"Some of those houses were so extravagant," Shirley said. "You wonder how they don't get lost."

"I bet they hire someone to navigate their house for them. Which I will also be doing now that I am also rich, thank you very much," said Britta.

"Excellent use of Troy's money," said Jeff. 

"Her own money," Troy insisted. 

"You don't even have your own house yet," Jeff shot back at Britta. 

"I will!" Britta asserted. "And wherever you move, I'm moving in right next door. And I'm going adopt more cats and let them piss on your yard. Boo yah! Britta for the win!" Her celebration must have been too forceful, because she winced and massaged her temple. 

"Glad the money's being used for a good cause then," Jeff replies, looking like he was suppressing an eye roll. "You could live anywhere you want, and instead you'll choose to torment me with disabled cat pee for the rest of eternity."

"Ooo, I could get myself a house on the beach. And finally get those expensive bedsheets..." Shirley cooed. "Troy, where are you-"

"We still have a few hours before the dinner reservation, if you guys want to see the Chinese Theater," Abed interrupted.

He's fairly certain he'd taken them there before, on one of their very first visits out to LA, but Troy obviously hadn't seen it and Shirley's face still lit up at the suggestion so Abed considered it a valid activity. He would offer to visit the Griffith Observatory, but Troy still hasn't seen La La Land and Abed wanted him to understand the homage before they visited. 

Shirley took Troy's arm as they began the walk there, asking him more about Spain and Levar Burton. Jeff and Britta continued their bickering about their hypothetical living situation, which left Annie and Abed paired up on the sidewalk behind everyone else. 

"Abed," she said. "Are you going to stay in LA?"

"It makes the most sense. This is where most movies and tv shows are made," he said. "I like that it's warm most of the time. I like that the atmosphere of the city feels like being in a movie. I have a job here."

"Yeah." Annie bit her lip. "I think I'm going to stay in D.C.."

"Right."

"And not go back to Colorado."

"Right."

She flashed a nervous smile. "Right. It just makes sense. My work is there, that's where all the opportunities are... And I love it there, honestly. I feel at home."

"That's a solid set of reasons."

"I guess I just hadn't said it out loud. Thank you."

"I didn't do much," Abed said. "It sounds like you had it figured out already."

"You listened." She linked their arms together. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

"Do you know what Troy is going to do?"

Abed blinked. He hadn't thought about anything further than Troy coming to visit him. They hadn't talked about it. 

"I'll take that as a no."

"I haven't asked him yet," Abed said. 

"Well, he has family in Greendale. And he's seen the world, now, I'm sure there's at least one place he liked enough to live in."

Abed frowned. 

"I don't think I should just give you his number," Troy said to Shirley, just ahead of them. "But I'll ask."

"I just think we should both be prepared if he moves," Annie said, bringing his focus back to their conversation, "and doesn't live close to either one of us."

Abed glanced ahead at Troy and Shirley, strolling arm in arm. He squeezed Annie's arm closer to himself. He hoped that while he said nothing, she still received the message.

***

On the third day of their visit and after a particularly stuffy UberXL ride, he took them to Santa Monica. 

They explored, they ate, and they spent a lot of time on the pier. They watched Britta get roped into paying $20 for a picture of a poodle wearing a dress only moments after arriving. 

"It's fine," Britta insisted. "I meant for that to happen."

Even though there are probably more important things for them to be spending their money on, they each bought wristbands for the rides. They could figure out the hard stuff later, Abed thought, the charities and paid off bills, the houses and the new locations, where ever they may be. He didn't want the rest of the group to be worrying about that right now. He wanted them in the moment, enjoying LA with him. 

He and Troy sat on matching horses right next to each other on the Merry-Go-Round. 

Troy grinned at him. "It's like we're racing."

Abed smiled back at him. "I'm winning."

Jeff, just behind both of them, had his arms crossed as he sat sideways on a beautiful white unicorn. "All I know is that I'm losing."

Abed said nothing, because he knew that Shirley had already snapped a picture of him enjoying himself on the Merry-Go-Round that was sure to grace their group chat later. 

They rode a few of the small roller coasters, but Shirley refused to go on any of the fast rides and Abed quickly became dizzy and a bit queasy, so the two of them broke off to play arcade games. There's a learning curve for Shirley, but Abed fought to keep his patience with her as she learned Frogger and once she got the hang of it, she was actually pretty good. Abed zeroed in on Space Invaders for himself, until some time later Troy appeared behind him with a proposition to play Mortal Kombat. Abed jumped at the moment of deja vu that arrived with someone appearing over his shoulder while he played arcade games. But he relaxed at the sight of Troy, who would never throw a drink in his face or lie about being interested in Farscape. They played arcade games until Abed's eyes started to sting, but it was worth it, because they got the high score and got to put ASS as the initials on the leaderboard for 2 different games. 

When Annie finally pulled them out of the arcade and back into the fresh, ocean air on the pier, the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. By the time they made their way onto the Ferris Wheel, there's only a sliver of the sun left in the sky and all the lights on the pier had been turned on. 

Troy and Abed were sitting together in one passenger car, and immediately below them sat Jeff, desperately trying to calm Shirley as their height form the ground grew. Annie and Britta were smushed into a car below them, clinging to each other while Britta fumbled with her phone's camera. 

The Ferris Wheel came to a brief halt when Troy and Abed had just barely reached the top of the wheel. The sound of the ocean below them traveled all the way up to their car and lingered there. Abed watched Troy listen to it. 

"You're probably tired of the ocean," Abed realized out loud. "That was an oversight on my part. I should've brought you somewhere different."

"No," Troy said. "It's actually kinda nice sometimes. The sound of it, I mean."

"I see."

“And sometimes it’s not.” Abed waited for a further explanation, but Troy didn’t give it. “But right now it’s nice.”

The wheel lurched into motion, and Abed, without thinking, moved his hand to grab Troy's. He didn't have to move it far, because their hands had been resting right next to each other. It wasn't even really a conscious thought on Abed's part, it had been more like jumping in surprise, and their hands had met by accident. 

He knew it was hardly appropriate for their characters' relationship, but it eased the brief rush of adrenaline that the sudden movement brought him, so he didn't want to be the first one to pull his hand away. Troy seemed to be in a similar situation, because he said nothing about it but kept his hand wrapped around Abed's. 

When they returned to the ground, they left the pier in favor of the beach. It was dark enough that the water looked black, like the Dark Ocean on Inspector Spacetime's home planet. Britta kicked off her shoes immediately and ran across the sand. Once she was far enough away, she turned around to face them and held her arms out wide. 

"C'mere!" Britta yelled. 

"Not it," Jeff said, his index finger flying to his nose. 

"Oh my god," Annie said, working her shoes off. "I'm gonna do it."

With that, she ran to Britta and jumped into her open arms. Rather than catching her, Britta instead tumbled to the ground and brought Annie with her. 

"No fair!" Troy exclaimed. He ran in their direction and fell to the ground next to them. 

Abed collected their shoes and jogged over, collapsing on the ground next to them as well. He mirrored their laughter and sounds of enjoyment. 

Jeff and Shirley caught up to them and while Shirley joined them in the sand, Jeff hovered. 

"You're going to get stepped on," he said. 

"Oh, c'mon Jeff," Britta said. "Enjoy yourself! Join us, be one with the earth!"

"That's alright. I'm wearing designer clothes, so..."

Britta scoffed and flopped back down into the sand. Shirley carefully spread her jacket on the ground as a makeshift blanket, on which Jeff reluctantly sat. 

Abed knew that he would regret laying in the sand later in the night, when he would be far from the beach but his skin would inevitably continue to crawl from the texture of the sand. But in the moment, he tried to ignore it and focus on the people near him.

He laid on his back and Troy settled in the place next to him. They ignore the way Britta was very obviously getting high. 

"I see what you mean," Troy said, just to Abed, "about the stars."

Abed nodded, staring at the sky. "It's affected by pollution."

"Yeah," Troy replied. "But it's still nice to look at."

"It is."

"I told LeVar about the Planet Trek idea. He said that 'Star Trek,' just has a nice ring to it."

"That's true," Abed said. "But it's still illogical. As much as I appreciate the original name."

"I knew you'd say that." Next to them, Shirley laughed at something Annie said. Troy pointed at one of the large, visible stars. "I'd travel to that star if I could."

“Cool. Cool cool cool.” Abed followed the direction of his finger. "Why that one?"

"I don't know. It seems inviting," Troy answered. "Which star would you go to?"

Abed pointed to the same star. 

"Really?" Troy asked. 

Abed nodded. 

"Well, what do you like about it then?"

"I'll already know people," Abed said. "You'll be there."

"Oh." Troy's hands settled on his chest. 

"Woah," Britta said loudly. "You guys, that star is like, the best star in the whole sky."

"I actually think that might be part of Ursa Minor," Annie chimed in. "Wait. Maybe not. Which way is North?"

"Since when are you an astronomy expert?" Jeff asked. 

"It doesn't matter," Troy asserted. "That's the Trobed star."

"Oh, that's nice," Shirley said.

"Didn't take you two too long to get back to normal, huh?" Jeff chuckled.

Abed stared at the star so intensely that he could almost feel it burn into his retinas. 

"It's a nice star," he said instead of answering Jeff.


	3. Additional Studies in Misunderstandings and Counterparts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abed adds Troy to his LA routine and tries to avoid him leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! i hope you are enjoying and please please comment and leave kudos if you are!!

Troy stayed at Abed's, even after everyone else went home.

He didn't say anything about it. 

Not when they added Troy's new number into the group chat, not when they helped Annie pack up her things, and not when they watched Jeff, Britta, Annie, and Shirley disappear into the horizon.

They didn't talk about it when they trekked back up to his apartment or when they sank into the couch and turned on the TV. They talked plenty about Reverie Pursuit and the Inspector Spacetime Anniversary episode and they swapped theories endlessly over dinner, but they didn't talk about Troy leaving or staying either way.

So Abed followed Troy's lead. He stayed quiet and didn't call after Troy when he got up from the dinner table to go to sleep. He stayed seated at the table and didn't ask how long he was staying, where he would go after, how they would communicate, when they would see each other, or if he had gotten Troy back only to lose him again. Abed suspected that once the topic came up in conversation the ending would be ugly. He'd watched it on TV a thousand times.

So instead, Abed sat staring at an empty noodle bowl for longer than was socially acceptable. He justified it by reminding himself that no one else was in the kitchen to judge whether or not his actions were reasonable. Therefore, he could stare at the empty bowl for as long as he needed. It still didn't bring him any comfort.

When he finally brought his eyes away from the bowl, he checked his phone.

_Annie: Just landed. All safe here, no Lost scenarios. I'm going to go to sleep but I'll give you a call tomorrow. Thank you for an awesome weekend <3_

_Jeff: watched Lion on the plane. it was alright. thanks for the recommendation._

_Britta: dude, w/e u told jeff 2 watch made him cry like a baby. will send pics when i have better signal. boss baby was just okay_

_Shirley: I'm back home! Thank you sweetie. Hope I can visit again soon. <3 _

The corners of Abed's mouth twitched. He sent a corresponding text to each of them, and made sure to thank Jeff for watching Lion.

He had to go into the blanket fort to get his pajamas. He grabbed the green pajama set again and glanced at Troy. His eyes were closed and he laid incredibly still underneath Abed's covers.

Abed tiptoed out of the blanket fort and into the bathroom. He changed into his pajamas and stared at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

Troy was in Abed's bed. The couch was open now, so there's no reason for Abed to get into the bed as well, like he had for the past few nights. But the couch was an uncomfortable change in routine and Troy was already asleep, so he probably wouldn't even notice if Abed moved in beside him.

Abed snuck back into the blanket fort and sat on the edge of the bed. He was about to get under the covers when he realized he never did figure out if he still spread out in his sleep. If he didn't know for sure, it probably wasn't right to run the risk of disturbing Troy in his sleep without discussing it beforehand. He should sleep on the couch.

He moved to leave and felt a hand grab his arm.

"Abed."

Troy's hand made a perfect circle around his wrist, holding him to the bed without any force. The point of contact between them felt warm and inviting. He gazed at Troy's eyes, wide open and lacking any signs of having actually slept.

"Stay here," Troy whispered. "Sleep here."

"Okay." Abed positioned himself under the covers, face up and arms at his side. He took deep breaths and didn't talk about Troy in his bed, Troy in his apartment, or Troy in LA.

When he woke up, the other side of the bed was empty. Abed figured the ocean must have changed Troy's sleeping habits because Abed had always woken up before him in Colorado, but Abed had found him already awake in the living room every morning since he'd come back.

Abed rolled out of bed and changed into his sport clothes. If Troy was staying, at least for a little while, then Abed might as well start returning to some semblance of his routine.

"Good morning," Troy said from the couch when Abed finally emerged from the fort. He looked him up and down. "Where are you going?"

"Running."

"Running?"

"Yes." Abed raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to come?"

"Running with you?"

"Yes."

Troy glanced at his Vans by the door. "I don't think I have the right shoes."

"You definitely don't. But you'll be fine for one day. If you want to."

Troy glanced from his shoes to Abed. "Yeah. I do."

Abed took him running down a shorter path than he would usually take, and he had to stop more frequently for Troy's benefit. Abed squeezed water from his water bottle into Troy's mouth at every break and told him to pretend it was a strength potion.

"I can't believe..." Troy gasped between breaths during one break. "...how fast you are. When did you start running?"

"About a year ago." Abed stretched his arms up to rest on the top of his head.

"I had no idea," Troy said, fanning himself. "I mean, I remember you being athletic-" Abed grinned at the memory of their competitions at the S.T.D. Fair - "I just... I don't know, I guess I didn't expect you to be doing it everyday. I don't know why."

Abed hummed.

"Why'd you start?"

Abed considered it. "Do you remember Annie's martial arts class?"

Sometime during their sophomore year, Annie had taken up martial arts at the suggestion of her therapist to focus her mind and calm her nerves.

"Yeah...?"

"Something like that." Abed rubbed his lips together. He wished he had brought chapstick with him. "There's enough runners in movies that it's like a daily homage. I started with yoga, because there's a lot of yoga instructors in Hallmark movies and also because Annie said I have the body type for it. But eventually I switched to running. It fits better into more movie genres and I liked the repetition of it."

Troy laughed and then drew in another gasping breath.

"Take more of the potion." Abed passed him the water. "Do you want to stop?"

"No, I can finish. I just need a second," Troy said. He took a long sip from the bottle. "I think I know what you mean. About Annie's martial arts. And the repetition. I'd do sit-ups in the boat until LeVar made me stop."

"Annie said I'd run straight across the country one day. Like someone left me on on autopilot."

"Huh," Troy chuckled. "Just like Forr-"

"Stop." Abed's blood ran cold. "I know what movie you're going to say. Don't say it."

Troy blinked in surprise. "Abed-"

"Let's finish. We're almost home." Abed turned and began to run home.

Troy followed him wordlessly and didn't try to explain himself any further. Abed was grateful. If Troy didn't continue, if they didn't address it any further, then Abed could pretend that it had never crossed his mind.

He walked straight into the shower without talking to Troy. The water was so hot it nearly burned his skin, but he didn't turn the temperature down. He was tempted to even sit down on the floor of the shower and close his eyes, letting the water fall over him and scorch his skin, just like he imagined the Inspector's reconstructions felt. But he forced himself to remain up right, and exited the shower in one piece, decidedly still the same Abed, with no reconstruction.

Troy wandered into the bathroom after him. He didn't meet Abed's eyes.

He began to wonder if he had been harsh with Troy. He meant what he said, he didn't want to hear Troy connect that movie with their life. Ever. But he also didn't want to upset Troy and make him want to leave. He bit his lip, and then immediately pulled out chapstick and covered his lips, once, twice, three times.

When Troy emerged from the bathroom, still flushed from the shower, he didn't seem to be upset with Abed or looking to avoid him. He was nervously scratching the back of his head and his eyes darted around the room, but his gaze ultimately came to land on Abed.

"I still have to get groceries," Troy perked up at his words, "if you'd like to go with me."

"Yeah, man," Troy said, relaxing. "Are grocery stores different in LA? I went to one in Spain that had an escalator in it."

"I've never seen one with an escalator," Abed said, "but I don't shop in the rich people grocery stores."

"We could now. If you want."

Abed grabbed his keys and sped to the door. "Are you coming?" he asked over his shoulder.

Troy scrambled for his things. "Of course."

The rich people grocery stores do not have escalators, they discovered, but they do have a lot of vegan foods Abed's never heard of before and a lot of people who stared at him when he picked up a radish and began monologuing about it in his Inspector Spacetime voice.

"Ignore them," Troy said sharply and held two loose pretzel sticks up to his head. "Look. Eradicate!"

"You make a good Blorgon." Abed tossed a few more items in his cart. "But I like you better as Constable Reggie."

Troy lowered the pretzels. "Anything for you, Inspector," he said in his Reggie voice. He moved towards Abed's cart. "What'd you get?"

"You don't need to worry about it. Get whatever you want."

"Yeah, well..." Troy paused to grab a bag of expensive looking chocolates and add them to the cart. "...I want to know what you got."

"Various ingredients." Troy gave him a look that Abed guessed probably meant he was meant to explain further. "I have a couple of Movie Cookbooks from Annie and Britta that I'm working through. Tonight's ratatouille. From the movie Ratatouille."

"I... I've never had anything you've made. Other than noodles."

"And special drink. And cereal and popcorn, if you want to count that."

"Right." Troy's mouth gaped. "Can I have some?"

"Yes," said Abed. "I didn't ask you before because I wasn't sure if you'd want to try it or if you had other things you'd rather be eating. But since you asked, yes."

"Cool. Ratatouille doesn't actually have anything to do with rats, right?"

"The food does not. The movie is centered around rats, but they're animated."

"Okay, yeah, I definitely want some then. We can watch the movie, too, as long as you promise it's not too realistic."

"The story is believable within the reality of the film. But you should be fine."

Troy peered into the cart. "What's the pudding for?"

"The 'I Hate My Husband' pie from Waitress. It doesn't actually taste like marital dissatisfaction, it's a chocolate caramel cream pie."

"Mmmm," Troy hummed happily. "And the gummy worms?"

"Just for fun."

They reached their arms out into their handshake.

They run to a pet store as well, to get Hamtaro new bedding and some special treats and toys Abed couldn't afford before. He's careful to steer Troy away from the rats and any other animals with scaly tails. He didn't want Troy to get too scared and change his mind about watching the movie. This led to them running into several customers with dogs and then an adoption center for cats. It was incredibly distracting. By the time they finally checked out, it had been several hours since they first left the apartment.

They watched Ratatouille while Abed cooked (or in Abed's case, listened to the movie from the kitchen and intermittently ran into the other room to catch as much of it as he could). The food was finished just in time for them to eat the ratatouille at the same time the characters did, which gave Abed the shivers from head to toe.

"Another movie?" Abed asked when it was over.

"Hell yes. What else have you got?" Troy reached toward Abed's DVD cabinet.

"No!" Troy's hand was dangerously close to opening the cabinet, and therefore dangerously close to sorting through his DVDS and finding what sat behind them all.

Troy was confused. He was staring at Abed. He needed to say something.

"Let's rent something instead. I have a movie I want you to see but I don't have the DVD yet."

"Okay..." Troy settled back onto the couch as Abed searched for the movie on the TV. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier."

Abed's hand froze on the remote. "We don't need to discuss it."

"No, Abed. I want to. Can I please just... say this?"

Abed's gaze was fixed on the TV. He nodded.

"Look, I... I'm sorry, man. You know, when I was in high school, sometimes at football practice people would yell 'Run Forrest Run' at me. Because they thought I was dumb. I always hated it."

Abed could feel Troy watching him but he didn't look at him yet.

"I guess the point I'm trying to make is I don't even really like Forrest Gump that much. I don't even know why it came to mind. I was just thinking about running and for some dumb reason that's the first thing I thought of. That's not how I think of you, or anything like that. It's not a connection I would normally make. Ever. So I'm sorry."

Abed nodded curtly. "Thank you for saying something. And for the record, I wouldn't make that connection with you, either. I think you're very intelligent. Especially when it comes to your emotions."

He finally looked at Troy. His eyes were shiny, but not overflowing. The way Troy was looking at him made Abed feel like he was looking into an intense power source. He could only do so for a few seconds before it would burn him up. It forced him to look away.

"Thanks, man," he said. "What movie did you want to show me?"

Abed's lip twitched, "Baby Driver." Then, off of Troy's look, he added "It's not an actual baby."

"Damn."

"Just trust me," Abed said. "And wait here a second."

Abed retreated to the blanket fort and returned with his glasses on.

Troy did a double take at the sight of him. "What is going on right now? Am I in a parallel dimension?"

"No." Abed thought about it. "Unless we both are. But it would have to be really subtle shift because there's no major differences that I can notice at the moment."

"You wear glasses...?"

"They're for filtering out blue light from digital screens. And sometimes for playing the nerd character. Or for taking them off and people realize I've been the pretty girl right under their nose the whole time, but I haven't reenacted that character trope yet." Abed cocked his head. "Why, do I look different?"

"No. I mean, well, yeah, you look different, but not bad-different. And you still look like yourself, which is good... They're not bad. It suits you," Troy rambled.

"Okay. That's good, because they reduce screen induced headaches and I don't want to deal with that any more than necessary." Abed sat back down on the couch. "Movie?"

"Movie," Troy replied. "So if it's not a baby driving, why'd they call it Baby Driver?"

"You'll see," Abed said cryptically.

For the most part, Troy was quiet during the movie, save for the occasional hum along to the music or surprised exclamation during a really cool car chase.

Abed didn't say much either, but he did excitedly whisper, "See, he uses music and movie quotes to talk to them," when Ansel Elgort's character quoted something at Lily James. "His dialogue is sampled just like his music is."

There was a crease in Troy's forehead that told Abed he was thinking.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just thinking this movie explains how you learned to like driving."

"I don't know if I'd say that I like it," Abed said. "It's something I have to do. The public transportation out here isn't great." His eyes tracked Ansel across the screen. "But he samples dialogue and he can do it. So..."

"...Why couldn't you," Troy finished.

"Yeah," Abed said. His throat felt unbearably tight.

He didn't speak again until the end of the movie, when the screen showed Ansel and Lily, now styled as if they were in a movie from the 1950s, meeting in front of a beautiful old car. They kissed.

"It's a fantasy of Baby's," Abed couldn't stop himself from saying, "constructed from images of pop culture and Americana from the 50s."

"It's nice," Troy said. "He has a daydream to keep him going until he gets out."

"Exactly."

Troy raises his eyebrows. "Do you really think she'd would wait for him? All those years?"

Abed's face flushed. "Yes."

"Why?"

"The narrative leads you to believe that," he said. "And it matches with data I've collected."

Troy sank back further into the couch. "I hope you're right."

***

One night, Abed had a dream.

It was dark. Dark and a little damp. And there was a smell, a horrible, metallic smell that was so familiar it made his stomach turn.

He reached a hand up to block his nose and instead found his hands handcuffed to the wall. The motion pressed the metal into his wrists, aggravating old bruises that he thought had long since healed.

He looked at the wall they were connected to and realized that the walls of the locker he sat in had moved in even closer than when he began. He couldn't remember how he got there, but that didn't matter because the walls were moving in closer and his wrists hurt and it smelled horrible and he couldn't breathe-

Breathe. He took a breath. It came out shaky and unstable. He took another.

"Troy will find me," he said out loud, even though he was alone in the locker. "Troy will find me."

"Are you sure?"

Abed looked up. Even though the walls already felt impossibly close, there was another person standing there. Tall, thin, and sporting a goatee.

"Evil Abed."

He shook his head. "Just Abed now."

Right. Abed remembered Jeff saying something about that when he recounted his experience with their Evil counterparts, but Abed had never considered anything Jeff said about them to be part of the canon for the darkest timeline, anyways. He wasn't totally sure why this Darkest-Timeline-Abed didn't consider himself evil anymore.

He forced himself to take another shaking breath. "What do you want?"

Other Abed cocked his head. "Just to talk."

"Well, I don't have much time," the Original Abed shot back at him. 

"I seem to recall having plenty of time for you." 

He meant the therapy sessions with Britta. Or the solo Dreamatorium simulations. Or maybe he meant those first months after Abed moved to LA , when he had sent him to run a few errands. Worse yet, maybe he remembered how Abed had shamefully begged and pleaded for a chance to talk to Evil Troy, even if it wasn't the same as his own.

But Abed had been doing better. He really thought he'd been doing so much better. It had been a long time since he'd met with the Other Abed.

"You can't even spare the time for one conversation?" Other Abed continued. "It's for your benefit."

"Troy is coming to save me."

"Oh. So sure of that, are you?" Other Abed sounded sad for him rather than outright mean, and somehow that hurt more.

"Yes." His breathing picked up again and betrayed him.

"I don't think so." With every word, the handcuffs tightened. "You don't remember? Troy's gone."

"No," Abed managed to say. "You're wrong. He came back."

"Oh. I see. And now everything can go back to normal. My mistake." He knew that Other Abed was purposefully inflecting to sound sarcastic.

"Yes, I... He did..." All of Abed's memories were fuzzy. He thought he had seen Troy in his bed in LA, back from the sea, but now he wasn't so sure. He was losing control of his brain.

"Even if you think he came back," Other Abed explained calmly, "he'll only leave again. There's no one coming to get you, Abed."

"I.. I don't... I can't-" His lungs couldn't support his words anymore and he swallowed them down, breathing hard and choking on the lump in his throat. He wanted to yell or scream or whine or wail but couldn't bring himself to make any more sound. The air in the locker was running out.

"I just came to warn you," Other Abed said. "It was the least I could do after all the time we spent together."

The walls moved in closer.

"Do you know why I'm not Evil Abed anymore?"

Abed couldn't find the energy to respond.

"We were wrong. My timeline isn't the Darkest. It's yours."

"No," Abed spat out.

"Yes," said Other Abed. "Abed. We both know the Darkest Timeline is the one where Troy leaves. Mine left to get pizza but he came back. And stayed. Your Troy is gone for good."

"You're wrong," Abed wheezed. "He was here, I saw him-"

"He'll leave again." Other Abed shook his head. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You may want to consider a goatee. I'll be shaving mine soon enough."

And then he was gone, and the walls moved in even closer and he couldn't move, it smelled horrible and his wrists ached and he couldn't breathe-

The next thing he knew, Abed was bolting up in his bed in LA. Somewhere far away, he heard a whine and thought faintly that it might've belonged to him.

"Abed?!" That was Troy, sitting upright next to him, as if he had already been awake even though it was pitch dark in the apartment.

Abed gasped for air. He put a hand to his forehead and found it drenched in sweat.

"Abed."

"I'm fine," Abed said, flying out of the bed and pacing toward the bathroom. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine."

He got to the bathroom and turned on the sink. He wanted to stick his whole head underneath the stream but he restrained, settling instead to use his hands to shovel the cool water up to his face. He held his hands there.

He heard Troy's footsteps follow him into the bathroom. He kept his hands pressed onto his face. Even though he knew the handcuffs weren't real, he could still feel his pulse in his wrists exactly where he dreamt they had been.

"Abed."

Abed removed his hands and found himself staring at his own reflection in the mirror. His vision got hazy and he saw himself without processing it. It was too much. He shut down.

"Abed?" Troy waved a hand in between Abed and the mirror and it registered in Abed's brain as somewhere far, far away.

He placed a gentle hand on Abed's shoulder and his focus came back, zeroed in completely on that one spot.

"Abed, you okay buddy?"

"I'm fine," he repeated.

"F-I-N-E." It wasn't a question.

Abed thought about the terrible, horrible days after Troy left when he told Annie over and over again that he was fine and she couldn't understand why he would say he was fine if he wouldn't eat, watch TV, or leave Troy's old bed. With Troy, he didn't have to explain his word choice.

" 'S hot," Abed mumbled.

"Probably these pajamas," Troy said. He rubbed Abed's shoulder and the skin underneath felt reassuringly warm and alive. The rest of him felt boiling hot and dead. "Do you wanna change?"

Abed made his way back into to the blanket fort without answering and stripped his clothes with little care. His heart was still thumping in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his body, and his arms were heavy as he grabbed the first shirt he found (an oversized Lego Batman t-shirt that draped over his body without clinging to his skin) and got back into the bed.

Troy moved in next to him. "You alright?"

"I'm sorry." When Abed spoke, his voice was low and raspy, like Batman without any of his confidence. "I just had a nightmare."

"You don't need to apologize," Troy said quietly. "You haven't done anything wrong."

Abed didn't have the strength to respond. He laid as still as he could, on his side with his back to Troy. Laying still proved to be difficult; he was shaking.

"It's a bad night," Troy said. Abed thought faintly that he was referring to the terrible nights when something was very wrong, like when they marathoned every Final Destination in one day and couldn't sleep, the confusing Halloween they couldn't remember, December 9ths, or Daylight Savings. "Do you... Here."

Troy both spoke and moved softly and slowly. He inched across the bed and wrapped his arms around Abed, one arm reaching to take his hand and the other gingerly cradling Abed's head. His fingers worked their way into his hair, brushing it back repeatedly and ghosting over Abed's skin. The moment Troy's hand made contact Abed couldn't help but to inhale sharply. His eyes closed.

"Is this okay?"

Abed hummed a tone of affirmation.

"You used to like when I stroked your hair. And held your hand." Troy's voice was so soft it was essentially a whisper. "When things were bad."

"I still do."

Abed brought their interlaced fingers closer to his chest, effectively pulling himself into a tighter embrace. He wondered if Troy could feel how fast his heart was beating.

"Did your old roommates take care of you?"

"I don't get a lot of nightmares anymore." Not once he had gotten used to LA.

"But did they help you when you did?"

"No," Abed admitted. Troy's hand never stopped moving in his hair. A constant, dependable pattern. "They were never like you or Annie."

Troy squeezed his hand. Abed squeezed back with shaking fingers. He knew that he should feel exposed, but he didn't. He felt a sense of shelter. He felt pleasantly warm instead of boiling hot.

"This doesn't happen a lot anymore."

"I know," Troy murmured. "But I get it. Sometimes it just does. Trust me, I get it."

Before he knew it, Abed was drifting off to the steady rhythm of Troy's hand in his hair.

"Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams."

***

Of all the movies and TV shows Abed introduced to Troy, he asked the most questions about the home movies.

"So that's what Frankie looks like," Troy commented. "Now I can stop picturing her as an older Annie."

"You weren't that far off," said Abed. "They have similarities on a surface level. Sometimes I'd get them mixed up before I got to know her face."

" And who was playing Glip-Glop? Oh, shit! Garrett?" Troy said, suddenly realizing. Abed nodded. "Jeez. I almost forgot all about him."

"You should see the documentary I made of his wedding." Abed pulled up the video and began scrubbing through the footage. "That was a plot twist I don't think any of us saw coming."

He stopped the video at a random point to get his bearings. In it, Annie sat at the mirror and spoke directly into the camera. "What are you doing?" came her voice through the laptop speaker.

Abed rushed to pause the video. "That's not what I was looking for."

"What was that?"

"It's not important."

"That was Annie, right? I want to see."

Abed released his tight grip on the laptop and slid it towards Troy. He hit play.

"If you don't put that silly thing away, I swear I'm going to stop loving you," he heard her voice say. He didn't want to watch the screen but the sound of it was impossible to escape. He felt Troy tense next to him.

"Oh, that's it," Annie's voice said, laughing, accompanied by the sound of her throwing herself onto the bed.

Troy paused the video forcefully. "So you and Annie...?!"

"No," said Abed quickly. "It's missing lover footage."

Troy blinked. "I feel like my brain is melting."

"We weren't actually lovers," Abed rushed to correct himself. "Keep watching, you'll see."

Troy pressed play again and watched through squinting eyes, as if it hurt him to look. He relaxed a little as he reached the end of the bit, but his face was unchanging.

"So you and Annie weren't dating while I was gone?"

"No." Abed regretted his harsh tone as soon as he said it. He did love Annie, and even he couldn't deny her facial symmetry and consequential beauty, it was just more of a brother-and-sister-get-into-antics love. Or the love between two strangers who experienced the same traumatic event and were bonded for life by the end of the movie. But decidedly nonromantic.

"And you weren't like... hooking up or anything?"

"Definitely not."

"Okay," Troy sighed. "Then why wouldn't you want me to see this?"

"I never said I didn't want you to see it."

"But you acted like it," Troy insisted. "C'mon. I know you, man. You started acting super weird as soon as it started playing."

"It was a failed project," Abed admitted, technically not lying. "It wasn't just Annie, I wanted footage for everyone. But as you saw, Britta thought it was unhealthy and went on one of her mental health crusades and no one else was interested."

"Okay." Troy rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna need more explanation."

Abed learned pretty quickly into their friendship that a clear and thorough explanation was what Troy preferred in most situations. He tried to provide that as often as he could, but still sometimes Troy would ask for more. And sometimes there's an emotional blockade that Abed didn't know how to work around.

"I guess," Troy continued, "I just don't understand why you were making missing lover footage for everyone. I don't want to sound like Britta, but... I guess I just don't understand."

Abed chewed on the inside of his lip.

"Abed. Please. I don't get it."

"I was unprepared," Abed finally explained. "Shirley left and no one told me she was going until she was gone. She didn't say goodbye. You already left. Annie was waiting to hear back about her internship, I was applying for jobs. You guys had already demonstrated that you were upset when I used my trackers so I needed something else for when everyone was gone. And like I said, I didn't get all the footage anyways."

"But you didn't end up needing it," Troy said. "I mean, yeah, people moved away but it's not like everyone stopped talking."

"Shirley didn't call until she had already been gone for a whole month," Abed said, suddenly feeling defensive. "You were gone longer than originally expected."

"That's not my fault." Troy's anxiously shifting in a way that told Abed he was feeling equally as defensive. "I went as fast as I could. You know that."

"I do. But the main point is the same. On the surface it seemed like people were leaving." Abed shook his head and clicked out of the video. "It doesn't matter. I told you I abandoned the project."

"I guess."

"We should watch something else," Abed said, going back to scroll through videos.

"Do you have anything more recent? Like, from LA, I mean."

Abed's finger froze on the trackpad. "I have a few things."

They watched his footage of the study group's Christmas reunions, a series of sci-fi short films revolving around a robot and his companion, a radioactive rabbit (which Abed knew was not perfect, but he still felt proud of anyways), and a short walk-through of his first apartment. It ended on a shot of a man with short, dark hair rolling his eyes. 

"Dude, don't fucking film me," he said. The screen went black.

"I'm guessing that what your old roommate?"

"One of them," said Abed. "That was Grant."

"Well, he seemed like a ray of sunshine."

"He wasn't."

"I know. I was being sarcastic."

"Oh, yeah. Then he was like a Disney Princess and Spongebob Squarepants rolled into one," Abed said, inflecting appropriately. "That's the end of my LA footage. Although I'm hoping to film more when I get the chance. I still need something mainstream before I'm allowed to make weird art for money."

"Money's not an issue anymore," said Troy. "You can make what you want."

Abed blinked. "We're going to need to get some wigs. For you and me. Also a donkey."

"I'm sure there's a way to do that. Do I get to pick the wig color?"

"You can have pink or blue."

Troy thought about it. "Pink. Like Princess Bubblegum."

Abed's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. "Now that's an idea."

"I missed being in your movies." Troy said gently, and the hand that rested between them stretched out so that his pinky was just barely grazing Abed's thigh.

"I missed making them," said Abed. "I missed writing for you."

"Do you still have the footage from when we reenacted Ghostbusters?"

"Yes. All 3 times."

Thus, they fell down the rabbithole of old movie homages and reenactments. They lost a lot of time rewatching the best of their home movies, and even some of the worst. Kickpuncher, the Dean's commercial, their attempt at a high-concept rap album; it's all fair game for review. The one thing they didn't rewatch was The Great Pillow and Blanket War, which Abed didn't ever want to revisit if he can help it. Luckily, there's enough footage of them that they could watch for says without every running out or having to go back to the war documentary.

"Jesus, that apartment," Troy said when it appeared on screen. "Our kitchen..."

Abed nodded. "Nostalgia through film. It's a powerful tool."

"Apparently," Troy said. "I should really go back to Colorado soon."

Abed reflexively slammed the laptop closed. He's not sure why.

"Abed?"

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"No," Abed repeated. The emotions that bubbled up inside him, clouded his vision, and moved his hand were disorienting. He couldn't even begin to try and sort through the churning in his chest, other than identifying it as somewhat shameful, because he was already speaking again. "You don't have to go to Colorado. You don't have to go anywhere else. You can stay here, in LA. I want you to stay here with me. We have money now, we can get a bigger place with room for both of us and be roommates again. Officially. Or if you really hate LA, we can go somewhere else and I can make home movies just for fun. I'd go with you. But ideally we'd both live here and I can work. You can take dance classes and we'll make more movies together. It can work. You don't have to go to Colorado."

Hearing his own words carry his own raw emotions without any references made Abed want to cringe. It was melodramatic enough to fit into Grey's Anatomy, which might count as a reference if he pushed it but did not make him feel any less embarrassed. His unpolished self was confusing and embarrassing, even to himself, but the baffling mix of feelings inside him now forced the words out of him and put him on display, unfinished and undone for Troy to see.

"I only meant to visit," Troy said finally. "To see my Dad, not to move back to Colorado."

While it's initially a sort of relief, Troy's words made the shame inside Abed feel twice as large. His cheeks flushed. More than that, there was embarrassment and guilt multiplying and mixing deep in his chest and Abed didn't even know how to begin to sift through it all.

"Oh."

"I just- I have to see him. He's my dad," Troy said. "And Tara- my stepmom, I guess. But did you mean that? About living together? Here?"

Abed forced himself to make eye contact, even if only for a second. Troy was scanning his face for some kind of sign. Friends don't lie to each other. They had agreed.

"Yes. I want you to stay here."

"I'd love that," Troy said, and the uproar in Abed's chest soothed. "I love it here. I love living with you."

"You didn't find a place you like better on your trip? And you didn't Eat-Pray-Love it and want to adopt another culture?"

"No," Troy said, chuckling softly. "I don't know where else I'd even go. There's no one else I'd really want to live with. Trust me man, there's no one out there like you. You're like, the coolest roommate in the world. And I lived with LeVar for years. I know all about cool roommates."

Abed's cheeks were still flushed. The burn underneath his skin spread from his face all the way up to his ears, but a softer mess of emotions had taken root in his chest. "We'll be roommates again."

"Yeah, buddy. As long as you'll have me." He smiled in the sheepish, lopsided way Abed knew he was self-conscious of, but that Abed loved to see. "And you can come with me to Colorado. If you want."

"Revisiting our origins," Abed said. "I'm in."


	4. Biological Progenitors and Financial “Dean”ations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy and Abed visit old friends and family in Colorado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all - just a few notes. 
> 
> one, i did not mean for this to be as long as it is. more stuff just kept coming, but i didn’t want to split their time in colorado into 2 chapters so, there’s one big one! 
> 
> two, i took the liberty of deciding that Greendale Community College is in the town on Greendale, in the larger Greendale County. Greendale county also includes the towns Riverside and Coldwater, as hinted at in the show. I don’t know how much if that is confirmed, but that’s the best i could do based off on the in show info and the wikipedia which lists Troy’s birth town as “Riverside.” 
> 
> three, religious discussion is not meant to offend. I did the best research I could, and used r/exjw for some additional info as well. again, not meant to offend anyone, but i did admittedly project some of my own issues with my own non-jw religion. nothing personal! 
> 
> please please please comment and kudos if you enjoyed!

The closer they got to Colorado, the more nervous Troy became. Or at least, that was Abed's hypothesis. 

It made sense, all things considered. Abed knew that returning to his biological family after so many years was bound to be emotional, and for Troy, who's told Abed about his family in bits and pieces before, it was bound to be a stressful ordeal. So Abed resolved to monitor his anxiety levels. 

In LA and in the airport, Troy displayed only moderate signs of anxiety. He fidgeted with the hems of his sleeves and bounced his leg consistently whenever they had a free moment. But Troy often had excess energy that manifested this way, with bouncing and fidgeting, so Abed wasn't concerned. In fact, Troy was calm and collected when they passed through TSA, a stoic counterpart to Abed's quiet panic in the face of the nameless agents who rifled through his bag and touched him without knowing him. But Troy bought him a bagel afterwards and listened to him do an outlandish New York accent while he ate it. Therefore, as Abed calmed himself, he noted that there were no extreme signs of anxiety on Troy's part. 

He tried to keep more careful observation on the plane, but he found himself further away from Troy than he expected. He'd never flown First Class before. Troy said he hadn't either, but with as much money as they now had, it seemed like the right thing to do. Abed liked the leg room. The very few other times he had flown he felt cramped and uncomfortable, but now his legs could stretch out to their full length without hitting anything. Still, he'd trade that room to be closer to Troy. 

It's on the drive to his father's house in Riverside when Troy's body language began to change. 

Though Troy's face had aged on his trip around the world, it still frowned in the same way Abed remembered it frowning years ago. The space between his eyes rows crinkled and his mouth scrunched up like he was biting at the inside of his cheeks and his lips. Abed wanted to reach into his pocket, pull out the chapstick he kept there and offer it to him, but decided against it. The bounce in Troy's leg was much faster, like it had been set to hyper speed, and his hands flew around each other, tapping on his thigh and hitting each other in a desperate attempt to stay busy. This was more than Troy's average hyperactive activity; Abed classified him as officially anxious. 

"Abed." Even his voice was jittery when he finally spoke. "What have I told you about my dad? And Tara? Like, what do you know about them?

"Your dad's name is Jay but I should call him Mr. Barnes because he likes when people respect authority. He's a Jehovah's witness but got divorced not long after you graduated from high school and then remarried. Your Nana Barnes is his mother. He went to all your football games and cried when you lost your scholarship. He used to get you peanut butter cookies after doctor's appointments and he wanted you to move out of the house after freshman year because he felt insecure about Tara's age being so close to yours. Once he came to our old apartment to see why you hadn't been going to Kingdom Hall and to make sure you were still religious, I was in class but Annie was home and she said you had an argument in the other room." Abed cocked his head. "Why do you ask?"

"I didn't know Annie heard that," Troy mumbled. "I didn't know she told you about it either."

"I didn't realize it was a secret."

Troy shook out his hands. "You should definitely call him Mr. Barnes. He likes eye contact too but don't force it if you don't want to. He might ask you questions you don't want to answer. If you don't want to answer just find a way to let me know. I'll fix it."

"We could have a code word."

"Yeah," Troy said, now scratching at his face. "Yeah, like..."

"Ansible," Abed supplied. Troy looked at him quizzedly. "It's a sci-fi term Ursula Le Guin developed to refer to technology used for instantanous communication, so I think it applies. Also it's a annegram for lesbian."

"Okay," Troy said slowly, "Ansible. Cool."

"You should use it too," Abed said. Then off of Troy's look, he added, "If you're uncomfortable. You should use ansible."

Troy blinked. "Okay."

"Is there anything else we should prepare for?"

"Dad might want us to pray before dinner. You don't have to, I usually just sing a song in my head if you want to try that. They'll probably have us stay in my old room." Troy shook his head. "Actually, I don't know what they did to it. It may not be a bedroom anymore. So scratch that. Also we'll have to watch most of our shows on your laptop because he probably won't like it if we're watching TV. And I can't accurately prepare you for Tara. Honestly, I only met her a few times, and one of those times was the wedding. She was quiet. A little weird. I thought she was mean but I don't know if that's just because I was angry or if she's actually mean."

"Got it," said Abed. "Weird like us or a different weird?"

"Definitely not like us," Troy muttered.

"Noted," Abed said as the Uber rolled up to the house. "Do you want me to do a character?" 

"Um," Troy said, "I love the Inspector, but I think he'd just confuse them. Maybe not right off the bat."

"No," said Abed, "I meant a leading man. Somebody more likable for a mainstream audience."

Troy slammed the car door shut and stared at him. "Abed, please be yourself. That's enough."

Abed privately thought that Troy would regret that, but until he was told otherwise, he would do as Troy asked and proceed as himself. 

Troy's childhood home looked almost exactly the same as Abed remembered it from the few times they had picked him up there freshman year. The light grey house was nearly picture perfect from the outside; the only thing preventing it from being a flawless television home was its lack of a white-picket fence. Also, when he had seen the house before, Abed remembered seeing bright and colorful flowers in the boxes underneath each window, which now were empty and bare. That must've been the work of Troy's mother, who was no longer around to plant the flowers. 

Troy's hand was shaking when he reached out to knock on the door. It swung open almost immediately to reveal Troy's father -- Mr. Barnes -- a tall, stern-looking man who towered over the short woman with pursed lips, Tara, behind him. At both of their feet, a Cocker Spaniel barked at the sight of Troy and Abed. 

Mr. Barnes' eyes lit up in what Abed could only assume was joy. "Troy!" he said, pulling his son into an embrace and making room for Abed to step into the house. "That's my boy," he said, pulling away and just slightly pushing on Troy's shoulders. "Troy, Troy, the Wonder Boy."

Tara nodded at them. "Welcome back," she said, and Abed noted that her tone of voice sounded warm even as she fidgeted nervously. 

Abed extended his hand to the Cocker Spaniel that had been investigating him closely since he had stepped through the doorway. The dog stopped sniffing at his shoes and instead switched to licking the tips of his fingers intently. 

"That's Sadie," Tara said, looking right at Abed, so he figured she was speaking to him. "I'm Tara. And you're..."

"It's Troy's friend," Mr. Barnes' chimed in.

"It's Abed," Troy said. "My best friend. I went to college with him? We lived together for 2 years? I told you he was coming? Remember?"

"Of course I remember. Abed from community college." Mr. Barnes moved to hug Abed as well. He reflexively stepped backwards out of his reach. Mr. Barnes looked taken aback at Abed's movement, so Abed compromised and held out a hand for him to shake. His handshake was firm in a way that made Abed's loose grip feel inadequate. "It's nice to officially meet you, Abed."

He pronounced Abed's name in the way so many others did when they had either just met him or didn't care to do any better, not quite at Pierce levels of "Ay-bed" pronunciations, but not too far away from it either, pausing between syllables and confidently closing off vowel sounds. He didn't correct him. 

Troy's father waved his hands uncomfortably. "Alright! Well, boys, we can put your bags in Troy's old room. I'm sure he remembers the way."

"All too well," Troy said, leading them through the house and into the room. "Oh my god," he said as he pushed open the door. Mr. Barnes chuckled nervously at his choice of words. 

Troy's old room was adorned with trophies, certificates, and medals. Abed glanced at the labels on a few and caught words like "Player of the Year," "Prom King," and "Best Smile," which Abed could vouch for at the very least. On the wall there was an old LSU pennant with a tiger staring them down. On the ceiling, there was still one stick-on glow in the dark star that Abed knew to look for because Troy had told him about the smattering of stars he had there throughout his childhood and how he regretted taking all of them down, save for one stubborn star, his junior year of high school. 

"I kept some of your old things in here." Mr. Barnes' puffed out his chest. "And I moved some of your other stuff in as well. I figured you'd like that when you got back from... well, everywhere." He took a step closer to his son. "Do you? Like it, I mean?"

It's like being in a time machine," Troy said simply. 

Abed sat on the edge of Troy's old twin bed. The bed sheets were red, bright enough that it felt like they were slapping Abed in the face. "We might have trouble fitting here. It'll be a tight squeeze."

Mr. Barnes chuckled heartily and even Tara let out a soft laugh, even though Abed hadn't said anything funny. 

"We have an air mattress for you, of course. We'll set it up in the living room."

Abed thought about Troy alone in his room later that night, surrounded by awards for someone who was essentially a stranger now, distracting bright red bedsheets and one taunting, glowing star while Abed was rooms away. In a stranger's living room. He swallowed dryly. "Thank you."

Abed pointed to the award closest to him. "MVP," he read. "You were the Most Valuable Player."

"He sure was," Mr. Barnes cut in. He proudly slung an arm around Troy's shoulder. "3 years in a row. You ever play football, Abed? Or maybe basketball, with your height."

"Only casually. Sometimes I'll do it for as movie reference."

"Abed's a filmmaker, Dad, remember? That's why he's in LA," said Troy. "And he's being modest. Abed's a better athlete than I am. He's a runner."

"Well, that's a tall claim," Mr. Barnes said with an odd twinkle in his eye. "Is all that true, Abed?"

"I am a filmmaker and I do run."

Mr. Barnes and Tara exchanged a look and smiled without crinkling in the corners of their eyes. 

"Can we eat something, Dad?" Troy asked, sounding desperate. "We're kinda hungry after the flight."

"Well, Tara is working on dinner... I wouldn't want you to spoil your appetite..." Mr. Barnes considered it. "Ah, you're young. Boys will be boys, won't they? We can get you something. Honey?" he said to his wife. "Why don't you get the boys some snacks?" 

Tara nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen while Mr. Barnes led them to sit in the living room. 

"So she's 'honey' now?" Troy asked. 

Abed remembered Troy telling him that when he was younger, he thought his mother's first name was Honey, because that was all he had ever heard her referred to as.

Mr. Barnes smiled with no teeth. "She's my wife, Troy. And your step mother. It's not reserved for one person."

"I guess," Troy sighed. 

Mr. Barnes' lips pressed together. "I'd rather not talk about that right now." 

"How old is she?" Abed said while pointing at Sadie, not meaning to interrupt but suddenly seized by the desire to know. "Your dog."

"My wife's dog," Mr. Barnes amended gently but firmly. "It's almost 3."

"Figures," Troy said. To Abed, he added, "Dad never really liked animals. Mom took them all when they got divorced."

"When she left us," Mr. Barnes said, suddenly sounding very stern, "Please don't alter the details for your friend. You know what happened." 

Troy was staring at his feet instead of his father, Abed, or anything near eye level. Abed wondered if he was embarrassed or ashamed - He couldn't get a good look at his face to be completely sure. But Abed knew Troy, and knew that his bowed head, bouncing leg, and fidgeting fingers combined were not a good sign. He stared at his hands and resisted the urge to reach out and hold them. 

"But why talk about that," Mr. Barnes said joyfully as Tara walked into the room, set down a plate of cheese and crackers, and sat on the arm of the chair he sat in, "when we have such good news to share." He put an arm around Tara. "We're trying for a baby!" 

Troy's head snapped up. "You are?"

Tara looked surprised. "Sweetie, it's a bit early to be sharing."

"It's good news, I'd like to share with my son!" He clapped his hands together. "We are."

"Congratulations," said Abed. 

"Thank you. If it's a boy we're thinking Luke, after your Uncle Lucius, Troy." Mr. Barnes grabbed Tara's hand warmly. "And if it's a girl, she'll be named after your Nana, of course." 

Mr. Barnes punctuated this with a pointed look at Troy and a sharp tone shift. 

"Dad, I'm sorry."

"What could you have done? You were off on your trip, God knows where. You had to go, of course." He turned to Abed. "My mother sadly passed. About 2 years ago."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Abed said, the way he had trained himself to do.

"Thank you, that's very kind. She had been sick for a few years. Cancer. She got diagnosed not long before Troy left, actually." He shook his head. "She was a lovely woman. I'm sure she would have loved to meet you today." 

"I met her briefly," Abed said. "Freshman year at Greendale. She came to family day."

"That's right, she did, didn't she? Well, she always cared so much about Troy's education. She really wanted to best for you. Do you remember what she always used to say?"

"Respect your elders?"

"No."

"Settle down, Troy, or get me a switch?"

"No," Mr. Barnes said sharply. "She would say that your mind is a terrible thing to waste."

"That's right," Troy muttered as he dug into the cheese and crackers. "She did say that, didn't she?"

"She wondered where you were a lot," Mr. Barnes continued. 

"Dad, I really am sorry. I was in the middle of the ocean when it happened, there was nothing I could do." To Troy's credit, it sounded genuine. Abed knew that earnest tone of voice better than anything. 

"No, I know. You were making money," he said, "and you had to do that somehow. That Greendale degree can only get you so far." Abed didn't understand, because the content of Mr. Barnes' words sounding disapproving, but he wasn't furrowing his eyebrows or raising his voice like Abed's father would. He was lightly smiling and making direct eye contact with Troy instead. "And your Nana seemed to understand, when she could remember. So, Abed, I understand you're a Muslim?" 

Abed blinked back his surprise at the sudden topic shift. "That's how my father raised me. Although my mother is Roman Catholic."

"Interesting." Mr. Barnes clicked his tongue. "Do you see your family much, Abed?"

"My dad lives here in Colorado, not far from Jeff and Britta, actually. I visit when I can."

"But not your mother?"

"Dad," Troy cut in.

"No." Abed answered anyway. "She lives in Arizona with her husband and my half-brother." 

"You don't visit them?" 

_"Dad."_ Troy was more insistent this time. 

"I'm sorry," Mr. Barnes said, leaning backwards and throwing up his hands. "It's just been so long since I've seen my son, I wanted to learn about him and his friends. Forgive me."

"Let me tell you about the trip, then," Troy said. "It's more interesting, I promise."

They spend a lot of time listening to what Abed knew was a sanitized version of his stories from overseas, and on a discussion of Mr. Barnes' apparently booming business. Somewhere in the middle of this, Tara stood to bring the cheese and cracker dish back to to kitchen and continue making dinner. Several minutes later, she poked her head back into the living room.

"I could use an extra set of hands setting the table," she said. 

Abed stood. "I can help." 

Troy shot him a panicked look, but Abed assured him it was fine. "I'll make myself useful," he said, which made Mr. Barnes and Tara laugh again. 

The amount of times Abed had actually had to set a table was surprisingly few, and if he thought about it, he's pretty sure it was almost always for a movie homage. He, Troy, and Annie were exceptionally casual in most situations and he couldn't even recall the last time he and his father had a sit-down meal. But he was doing a fairly good job regardless, or so he figured, because Tara didn't correct him. 

"I'm sorry about my husband," she murmured. "If he's offended you."

The statement was so large, Abed didn't know how to respond. So he didn't. 

"You have to understand," she continued, "it's been a long time since he's had his son."

"It's been a long time for me, too." He paused after setting down a fork to briefly look Tara in the eyes. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but he thought it might be an argument.

"For Jay, it's been even longer than his trip." She finished her set of plates and continued speaking with her back to him. "You're not a Witness."

Abed was confused - hadn't they already discussed his religious upbringing? "No, I'm not."

"Neither was I." She set the food in the center of the table. "You could be, you know."

She for called her husband and Troy in the other room, and then to Abed, she said, "You both want the same thing. You want what's best for Troy."

They arrived in the dining room before Abed could form a response, and Troy went straight to Abed's side. 

"You okay, buddy?" Troy asked the question with a soft hand on Abed's elbow. It broke his gaze away from the grain on the kitchen table, which he had been fixated on until that moment. He gave Troy a curt nod and settled into a chair. 

Abed stared at the food, some sort of fish with mashed potatoes on the side. The smell of the fish alone was enough to make his stomach turn, and imagining the texture inside his mouth was worse. He poked his fork at it. It didn't help.

"You don't like the food?" Mr. Barnes asked him. 

His own father's voice rang out in his head, begging him not to be such a picky eater. Then, a bit softer, Annie and Britta telling him that variety is healthy. 

They're watching him, he knew, and he was still watching the food. He needed a movie. He needed a movie that would make this okay. 

Mashed potatoes. _Close Encounters of the Third Kind._ He could work with that. Abed pushed the mashed potatoes into a pile with his fork and then shoveled it into his mouth. "It's good," he managed. 

"So," Mr. Barnes said, waving a fork in Troy's direction, "what else have you been up to? I know you've been back for a few weeks already. What's your plan?"

Troy shrugged. "I've just been getting settled. I came as soon as I could."

"Getting settled in LA."

"Yes."

Mr. Barnes pursed his lips and considered it. "I'm sorry, son, I was just getting anxious for you to come home," he decided on. "You're here now, that's what matters. You can stay here until you find a new place nearby..."

"Dad, I'm staying in LA," Troy interrupted. "I'm living with Abed."

Troy's father put his head in his hands. "Troy Barnes, you are almost 30 years old."

"Exactly, which is why I'm moving away from my hometown."

Troy's voice increased in urgency. He was seated directly across from his father, and Abed thought that was awfully cinematic of them. He had an equal view of both of them from where he was sitting, so he could perfectly see how Troy was clenching his jaw and how Mr. Barnes was narrowing his eyes from across the table. 

"You've been gone a long time. You're not thinking right."

" _I'm_ not thinking right."

"No, you're not." Mr. Barnes took a deep, low breath and exhaled it loudly. "I understand that you've traveled now, and you think you know what's best, but I-"

"So which is it Dad, am I almost 30 or am I a child that needs you to make decisions for me?"

Mr. Barnes shook his head like he couldn't believe Troy's words. "You're an adult, but you are _not_ acting like it, and I think if you stayed here you'd have the opportunity to become more grounded again."

"What's grounded, Dad?" Troy asked the question like he already knew the answer.

Mr. Barnes seemed to think so too. "You know."

"Say it. I want you to say it so I know I'm not making this up."

Mr. Barnes set his fork on the table and leaned forward towards Troy. "I want you to return to Kingdom Hall. With me."

Tara nodded from her spot next to her husband. Suddenly the conversation Abed had with her while they were setting the table made more sense.

"Jesus-" Troy started.

"Don't. This is what I'm talking about." Now, he pointed a disapproving finger at Troy. "You went on your trip and that's wonderful, because you made some money and you made something of yourself, but you got all these... ideas, and you went to LA-"

"What's wrong with LA?"

"You already know what's wrong with LA and the fact that you're pretending not to know is part of the problem. We have a community here-"

"How do you know I'm not going to Kingdom Hall in California?"

"Are you?" 

The silence that filled the room was deafening.

"Exactly." Mr. Barnes crossed his arms across his chest. "You weren't going when you were in college and you aren't going now. And that's probably my fault for letting it slide. We shouldn't have let you go on that trip, either, you got all these ideas in your head and now you think you know everything." He sighed. "...I just don't want to watch you go down the same path as your mother."

"Please don't bring her into this," Troy begged. "Not while Abed is here and _not_ with Tara."

Tara gave a soft gasp of indignation. Abed is painfully reminded that he is a participant in the scene rather than a viewer.

"Excuse me, I have the right to discuss whatever I please with my _wife_. Tara is-"

"Mom was your wife too."

"Your mother made a choice. You know these things, Troy, and yet you refuse to acknowledge them."

Abed could feel his mind start to retreat but he fought to remain in the moment, not in the hazy childhood memories of his parents' divorce or into an Inspector Spacetime analysis. Troy needed him there. 

"I don't want to have to cut you out, Troy! I cannot shun another person when the solution is so simple. Come back to me and Jehovah. I don't want to lose more family to worldly temptations."

"Worldly temptations, is that what you call it?"

"You didn't know your mother like I did." Mr. Barnes' voice was the lowest and darkest it had been all day. "Marriage is holy. She tarnished that first."

Troy shook his head. His hand covered his mouth. "Abed and I have a rule that we don't lie to each other. It's a good rule, Dad, you two should try it sometime."

"Enough!" Mr. Barnes shouted. The shout reverberated in Abed's head and his vision went fuzzy. He fought again for control. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. I am your father."

_"I am your father," Abed's own dad had said to him many times over the years. "You need to understand that I know what's best for you."_

"Honey?" Tara asked. "What is he talking about?"

"So what, then?" Mr. Barnes asked, questioning Troy and disregarding his wife's question. "What do you plan to do, Troy?"

"This was a mistake," Troy murmured. "This was a huge mistake."

"You'll go off and live in LA with Abed for the rest of your life?"

"Please leave him out of this."

"I know you're aware of what the bible says about two men living so closely."

Troy slumped over in his seat. His stare was vacant, his eyes glazed over. "Ansible," he whispered. 

"What?" Troy's father demanded.

"He said something," said Tara. 

"Ansible," Troy repeated louder. 

Abed stood up so fast his chair made a horrible screeching sound. 

"Abed, I'm sorry you had to see that. Please sit down." Abed processed Mr. Barnes' words on a delay, when he had already left the room and made it to Troy's old room. Luckily, all of their things were still in their suitcases, so all Abed had to do roll them out. As he does, he tapped at his phone with trembling fingers, typing in the Uber information without a second thought. 

When he got back into the dining room Troy was hunched over, curling in on himself as his father searched his face. When he saw Abed, he stood and wordlessly joined him as they walked towards the door. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

"We're going to leave now," Abed said, one hand already on the door knob and the other reflexively reaching out to shield Troy. "I would say it's nice to meet you but this has been loud and confusing. Thank you for dinner."

With that, Abed found himself leading Troy outside of his childhood home and all the way to the curb to wait for their ride. 

There's a slight chill in the air as they stood on the curb, Abed bouncing slightly from the excess of adrenaline and Troy uncharacteristically still.

He stared at the curb below them so Abed watched it too. He tried to imagine what Troy was seeing, if he was looking for patterns in the cracks in the concrete, or if his mind was short-circuiting and replaying the dinner scene before his eyes instead of an image of the ground. Either way, he's been there. This was an empathy moment. He could so perfectly imagine how Troy must've been feeling. So much so, he wanted to go away into that part of his own mind that would make it feel better, but he didn't think he could do so without leaving Troy behind. Abed dragged his shoe against the cement. It created a buzzing sensation in his foot that kept him alert. 

He felt fairly lucky that it wasn't a long wait for the car, because right as they got in, he thought he heard the front door of the Barnes household opening. Abed didn't look back to confirm it. 

Troy wasn't crying, which ordinarily Abed would classify as a good thing. However, now, when Troy's intense emotional reactions were a staple of his character and it was currently absent, Abed couldn't help but to feel concern. He scanned Troy's face over again. Maybe his eyes were a little glassy, but they weren't flowing, and other than the furrowed brows his face was... serene, almost. No, that wasn't it. It was concentrated. Conflicted.

"So are you boys from around here?" the driver asked.

"I don't think we'd like to talk right now," Abed said, luckily with little resistance. "Thank you."

Troy's head tilted only slightly to look at Abed. "Where are we going?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Jeff and Britta's. Actually, I should let them know."

Troy nodded and didn't scold Abed for his rash decison making. Abed dialed Jeff's cellphone.

"Abed! Is this about lunch tomorrow? Because I'm telling you, that waiter got fired from Senor Kevin's if you've changed your mind. It's still Greendale food, but it's grown on me."

"It's not about lunch," Abed said. "Well, I guess it sort of is, in a way. Troy and I are going to be early for lunch. By several hours. We're on our way and we'll be there shortly."

Jeff made a sound into the phone that Abed thought might be him opening and closing his mouth. "I thought you guys were-"

"We need to spend the night."

"Okay," Jeff said. "I'm guessing this isn't an open discussion."

The only other people they knew nearby was the Dean, Chang, Frankie - although Troy didn't actually know her - and Abed's father, none of which seemed suitable for their purposes. In terms of hotels, motels, and AirBNBs in Greendale County, Abed didn't trust them as far as cleanliness and comfort was concerned. "No, it isn't."

"Well, I'll tell Britta. We'll try to set something up for you. See you soon...?"

"See you momentarily," Abed said, and hung up. He held his phone out of Troy's line of view and typed out two texts. The first went to a group chat with Jeff and Britta: _Don't bring it up unless he does._ The second went to Annie, and read simply _I think it's really bad._

Troy, still quiet and pensive, relaxed some. 

Normally, that was where Troy would lay his head on Abed's shoulder. But normally by that time, he'd be crying, and Troy wasn't doing either of those things. 

It's moments like these when Abed was reminded of the long years dominated by Troy's absence. 

He knew how Troy reacted in times of trouble. How could he forget? The way Troy would lean on him, the way his hair tickled Abed's cheek when he leaned back on him, the way he nuzzled his cheek against Abed, it's permanently ingrained into Abed's brain.

Now, with Troy resisting for some unknown reason and his head remaining upright, the time they spent apart felt twice as long. 

Maybe it was just one of those things about Troy that had been altered at sea. That was okay. Abed knew that some parts of Troy might be a bit different when he came back. The idea made him a uncomfortable, but it was Troy. He'd care for him no matter what. And so much of him was still just as familiar and comforting as the day they had met. Abed could manage if Troy didn’t need the same comfort in the times like these. 

Abed's shoulder still felt cold in its absense, though. 

When they arrived at Jeff and Britta's, Troy remained incredibly intact. So much so, in fact, that Jeff raised a suspicious eyebrow at Abed behind his back and Britta, with less subtlety, mouthed _He seems fine!? What happened?_ To both of them, Abed shook his head. Instead, they smiled and hugged and listened to Jeff joke, "Long time, no see," and laughing, but only because it was Jeff. 

"Do you want to see the cats, Troy?" Britta asked the first chance she got. "They missed you. Actually, maybe not Chomsky. You know how he gets. But the offer still stands."

"Or how about something to drink?" Jeff suggested. "Or eat? You know, nutrition. Before we dive into feline hell."

Abed looked to Troy for their next course of action.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna turn in early," Troy said. "Long day, you know. Got to stay healthy. Early bird gets no germs, right?"

Jeff paused. "...Right."

"Troy, you can take my room," said Britta. "As for Abed... the couch? It's the best we can do on short notice. It's pretty comfortable, actually. I've fallen asleep there a few times. Which leaves me..." Britta repressed a gag as she realized, "...in... Jeff's... room. Cool."

"I'll stay with Troy," said Abed. "Britta, you can have the couch,"

"Oh no, Abed," Britta said half-heartedly, "you're the guest."

"No, really, I insist. I'd say keep your own bed but the two of us would have trouble fitting on the couch."

"Oh, thank God." Britta looked extremely relieved.

"No offense taken," Jeff said sarcastically. 

Britta's room smelled suspiciously like cat litter. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was present from the moment they walked into the room. If Abed had to guess, he would say it was most likely that Britta kept her cats' litterbox in the closet, where Jeff wouldn't ever have to look at or think about it. Britta, true to form, had thrown up a few Pixies posters, an old Nirvana vinyl (though Abed was fairly certain she didn't own a record player) and a framed poster from the Woman's March that proudly read "My body, my choice." Abed faced the poster and changed into pajamas. He opted for another oversized shirt, but he kept the green pants, partly to show some sense of modesty in a home that wasn't his own, but mostly for a sense of nostalgia and a visual indication that they were back in Colorado. 

He turned around and Troy was crying. 

"Oh," he said softly. 

"I'm sorry," Troy said through tears, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought I was holding it together."

Abed moved swiftly to Troy. He wrapped his arms around him without thinking. One of his hand reached up to hold the back of his head.

"It's a natural response," Abed said. "Logical."

"But I'm supposed to handle this better now," Troy said, shaking into Abed's chest. "I mean-" he gasped - "This is what _children_ do."

"No," Abed said definitively. "It's a logical emotional response. It's a healthy response, even."

Troy sniffled. "You sound like Britta."

"I'm not a therapist."

"Technically, neither is she." For a moment, it seemed like Troy had calmed because his words were almost even and level-toned. The moment was over seconds after it began, and Troy was sobbing again, pulling Abed in closer and grasping at the fabric of his shirt. 

"Don't know what I was thinking," Troy gasped. "So dumb."

"No," Abed said firmly. 

"Yes," Troy insisted. "I thought I'd finally get to go in there and... be a _man_ or whatever, and I went back and just... Everything's the same," he concluded. "Me and my dad." 

Abed brought a hand up to rest on Troy's face. He wiped the pads of his thumbs underneath Troy's eyes. It didn't get rid of the tear tracks there, but it felt nice to do anyways. 

"When the Inspector reconstructs he becomes a new incarnation of himself. 8 is romantic, 16 is pragmatic, 11 is eccentric. Minerva is a bit of a weak spot but that's beside the point. They still have the same core life force, even though it's a new actor. At its literal core, the character of the Inspector is the same, even though the incarnations have different personalities and appearances," he told him. "Your trip was like a reconstruction. Your core self is the same and that's why you still watch TV with me, drink Lemon Fresca, and disagree with your dad. But you gained new traits which made you brave enough to go back there and stick up for yourself. Based on what you said about living there before, that's a new ability."

The corner of Troy's lip twitched. "I don't feel very brave."

"You should sleep," said Abed decisively. "You'll feel better."

Troy laughed darkly, sniffled, and nodded. 

They settle into Britta's bed together, Troy's head finally - _finally_ coming to rest on Abed's shoulder, his chin hooking over it and his arm sling over Abed's waist. It's a slightly different position than the one from Abed's memory, with the two of them facing each other rather than side by side, and it wasn't a practical position to sleep in the entire night, but Abed didn't care. 

With Troy so close to him, every shuddering breath and trembling moment was amplified. Abed thought that if he was quiet enough, he could hear his heartbeat. When Troy spoke, it was soft, directly into the shell of Abed's ear. 

"I didn't give him the check," he said. "That means I have to go back." 

"Not necessarily."

Troy pulled him in a little closer. "Am I a terrible person if I don't?"

"No," Abed said confidently. "You have conflicting character motivations, but it doesn't make you a bad person."

Troy sighed, soft and warm in Abed's ear. He thought part of his shirt might be wet from where Troy was crying. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"You said that already," Abed replied. "But you didn't have to. Just try to sleep for now."

Troy nuzzled his head lightly. "Goodnight, Abed."

"Goodnight, Troy."

"Sweet dreams."

When Abed woke up, his arms were outstretched but empty. He grasped at the empty bedsheets and blinked away sleep. He had been dreaming - something about a brown cow on a rocketship to Venus, maybe? - but it fades within seconds. He stretched himself and got out of bed. 

He was in the hallway and about to pad into the kitchen when he heard a voice and stopped himself. Why he did this, Abed couldn't say, but some part of his instincts halted him, having him wait just outside the kitchen, in earshot but out of sight.

"... a real one," Jeff was saying. "Not just a friend, like Britta. Don't tell her I said that."

Then there was a mumbled response, something Abed couldn't make out exactly but it had the intonation of a question. Abed may not have been able to hear the exact wording, but he knew it was Troy by his voice. 

"It worked for me," Jeff responded. "Or it helps, anyways."

There's sniffling. Not the heavy gasping that had come from Troy the night before, but something smaller. Then a shuffling sound. Feet on the floor? 

"Do I make you proud?" This time Troy's voice came through loud and clear. 

"Everyday."

Abed felt a surge of guilt for enacting the Overhearing A Private Conversation Trope. He noisily made his way into the kitchen. 

Jeff has his arms around Troy. He looked authoritative and strong as well as soft and nurturing. Part of that was certainly due to the bathrobe draped around his shoulders. Jeff gave Abed a look like a deer in headlights but Troy seemed unperturbed. In fact, there was even the hint of a smile of his lips. 

"Hey, Abed," Troy said. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Abed," said Jeff, clearing his throat. "You're up early."

"Am I?" He glanced at the clock on the wall. He still didn't know. 

"It's almost 7," Troy supplied. 

"Oh. It is early." Abed sat at the table. "Why are you up?"

Jeff looked to Troy. 

"Just one of those days," Troy said. 

"I'm going to head to the gym, Britta will probably be up in... 4 hours," Jeff told them, moving out of the room. "You're welcome to anything you'd like for breakfast."

"Nice bathrobe, Jeff," Abed called after him. "You should really consider putting cucumbers on your eyes to complete the look.”

"Shut up, Abed," he said without malice, and left.

Troy looked him. "Cereal?" 

"Sure."

Troy moved to the cabinets. "What kind?"

"Oh," said Abed, "you don't have to do that, I can get it." 

"I want to." Troy frowned as he looked at their choices. "Ugh! They only have Cheerios. And not even Honey Nut, it's Whole Grain."

Abed made a noise of disgust. 

"I'll put sugar on it," Troy decided. When he brought it to Abed, it had already been drowned in several spoonfuls of plain sugar. Abed added another spoonful. 

For a while that's the only sound they had, the clinking of Troy and Abed's spoons as they added sugar and scooped cereal into their mouths. Abed knew that it wasn't only a boring scene, it was unfulfilling. He needed to say something to Troy, to acknowledge the events of the day before. He had no idea where to begin. 

"So there's something I want to talk to you about," Troy said, breaking the silence. He looked right into Abed's eyes.

Abed looked back at him. "Okay."

"I want to go see my mom while we're here. In Coldwater."

Abed set down his spoon. 

"Well?"

"Okay."

"Okay?" Troy shifted in his chair. "I thought you'd say no."

"Do you want me to say no?"

"No. I don't think so?"

"Okay. Then yes, let's go. We'll add an extra day to the trip. I can call Tate and let him know." Abed was glad he had the foresight to leave his neighbor with extra food for Hamtaro. "You don't look happy."

Troy stopped biting his lip. "I am happy!" he insisted, and immediately shook his head. "I'm conflicted."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking..." He shook his head. "I'm thinking that when you stop being a Witness, your family stops talking to you. So when my mom stopped Witnessing, we stopped talking to her. That's what we had to do. Dad always knew... He understood that I wasn't the best at following all the rules, but it's more than that now. I think I'm that family member. We both are. So shouldn’t I go see her?"

"That makes sense to me." He looked at Troy's twitching fingers. "You're still not sure."

"Well, I thought going to my dad's was a good idea, too." His eyes were wider than Abed had ever seen them. "Tell me what to do."

"I can't," he said. He had never met Troy's mother. The few things Troy had told him didn't give him enough data to run a simulation. The closest thing he has was his own experience. "But I really liked when my mom visited."

"I should go," Troy said. 

Abed shrugged. "I didn't say that."

"No. But I should. I miss her, too. That’s the other factor." He sighed. "I'll try to get a hold of her."

Abed nodded. "It's a very brave thing to do." 

Troy smiled. "You gonna finish your cereal?"

Abed pulled the bowl closer to him and poured more sugar into it. "Of course," he said, and they laughed together, genuinely, for the first time in several hours. It was nice to see Troy smile.

***

If being back on the Greendale campus was surreal for Abed, he could only imagine what it felt like for Troy. 

"This is wrinkling my brain," he whispered excitedly as Chang approached them, just outside that library.

"Troy," Chang said, surprisingly leaning in for a hug. "I always knew you'd come crawling back. Not too good for little ol' Greendale, huh?" He moved to Abed. "Same to you, Mr. Hollywood."

"They're just visiting, Chang," Britta said.

Troy squinted at Chang. "Didn't you lose a role in a Spielberg movie?"

Chang brushed himself off. "How 'bout we start over? Welcome back Troy, Abed, good to see you. Jeff, Britta, hope you're well."

Troy chuckled. "You know, Chang, I never thought I'd say it, but it's really good to see you, too."

Abed nodded in agreement. "It's good to see you in person and not in prison somewhere."

"Hey," Chang said, hitting Jeff playfully in the arm, "that's where Mr. Winger comes in. Teaching me all about law. Can't be the victim of what you understand!"

"Something like that," said Jeff. "Listen, Chang, we're actually here to surprise the Dean, so please keep this on the DL, okay?"

Chang made a zipping motion over his lips. "You know me. Chang keeps it tight!" He fist pumped and then pointed at them. "But you bitches owe me. Lunch, all four of you. You're paying. Also, I'm bringing Thomas." 

"Great," said Jeff. "I'd expect no less from you."

"Who's Thomas?" Troy whispered to Abed.

"His equally crazy boyfriend," Abed whispered back. "I think."

"Excuse me," said Chang. "I heard that. I'm the crazier one. We ran some homemade experiments and proved it. Don't strip me of my title."

"Maybe you should have a doctor prove it, Chang," said Jeff. 

Chang thought about it. "Hm. I'll consider it. Could give me the upper hand." 

"Clearly we're all on the same page here," Jeff said. "So I'll see you in class, Chang. We can go out after?" 

"See you then. And I cannot stress this enough, you guys are paying. You can afford it, Richie Rich," Chang said, pointing and Troy and leaving. 

"I can't tell if he's less psychotic or just so crazy my brain can't comprehend it all, but Chang almost seemed normal for a second?"

"It comes and goes," Britta said. "Just don't rely on it, and you'll be pleasantly whenever you can have a coherent conversation."

Jeff had Troy wait outside of the Dean's office, while the rest of them went inside. 

"Jeffrey!" he said gleefully as he walked in. The Dean did a double take. "And Abed! What a lovely surprise."

"Great to see you too, Craig." Britta rolled her eyes playfully. 

Frankie stood to give Britta a firm, apologetic handshake. “Lovely to see you, as always, Britta.”

"Actually, Britta, that reminds me, I think I left a blouse at the Vatican last weekend, if you could bring that to me when you get the chance."

The Dean put a hand on Jeff's shoulder and faced Abed. "Abed, I'll tell you, most of Reverie Pursuit may go in one ear and out the other but that Bob McEvoy..." He whistled lowly. "He's really turning out some looks, isn't he?"

"You should see him off screen," Abed said, "but we have more pressing matters to attend to."

"Well, I don't know about- Oh!" Troy entered the room shyly and the Dean choked on his words. "Hello!" His voice jumped up several octaves. He put his hands on Troy's shoulders like he couldn't believe he was there. "Troy Barnes, you're back! I don't have an outfit..."

He moved as if to raid the closet Abed knew held a wide variety of costumes, becuase he himself had raided it for student films while the Dean wasn't looking. 

"Dean- Craig," Troy said, catching himself, "you don't need an outfit. It's just me. And you look fine as is."

"Ope! Troy," said the Dean, "you flatter me. I'll remember that. Can I get you something to drink? I could have Natalie make you some coffee. Or water. Or some of Jeffrey's secret Scotch?"

"Hey!"

"That's fine," Troy said, and then he made a face. "Actually, coffee would be nice. Thanks."

Abed made a face back at Troy. "Coffee?"

"It's gross, I know," Troy explained. "Good for caffeine, though."

"Well, I will hop right on that," said the Dean, hopping over to his receptionist's desk. 

“Hello, Troy Barnes,” said Frankie, extending a hand. “Francesca Dart. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you and I haven’t gossiped about your sex life at all,” said Troy stiffly. 

“I would hope not.” Frankie pursed her lips.

“Do you get it now, Frankie?” Abed asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You said you didn’t understand what was so special about Troy and asked if he owned a rainbow or if he was the group’s pharmacist. Here he is, do you get it now?”

“That’s taken out of context,” Frankie says, flustered and adjusting herself. “Of course, yes, Abed, I see now.” She faced Troy uncomfortably. “So, I hear you’re a very gifted steel drummer?” 

Before he could respond, the Dean was hurrying back. "Alright, coffee’s the way, take a seat, make yourselves at home."

They settle into their seats and the Dean pulled his chair around to the other side of the desk, so that he was closer to them. "Well, Troy, do you do what I asked?"

"I did," Troy nodded. "France was cool, but the cheese was gross. It tasted like old milk and foot. But you were right about the chocolate."

"Ugh!" The Dean threw up his hands. "My mother is spinning in her grave."

Troy leaned forward. "Can you sense that? Because sometimes when I'm alone in the room I feel a chill down my spine, and if it's possible that’s a connection to dead people, I'd like to know."

"Like young Haley Joel Osment," said Abed. "Bruce Willis was dead the whole time."

Rather than answer the question, the Dean became engrossed in Natalie, who had walked in and handed the coffee to Troy at that moment. 

"Make it yourself next time," she told Craig out of the corner of her mouth. 

"I don't know how."

"My God," Jeff said in disbelief. 

Troy took a sip of the coffee, grimaced, and took another sip. "Mm. Bitter bean water. It's good."

"We can get a Mountain Dew on the way out," Abed said. 

"Code Red?"

"Duh-doy." Troy high-fived him. 

"So answer me this," the Dean asked. "Paris fashion. My mother always said..."

In the middle of a discussion of European Feminist movements (Britta), Spagehetti Westerns (Abed), and Italian men (the Dean, questioning Troy), the door swung open. 

"So it's true," the man in the doorway said. "The Truest Repairman returned to us."

Abed felt a deep sinking in the pit of his stomach.

"Um, no Russo, absolutely not," said the Dean. "This is a happy day, I have guests, and a really low tolerance for weirdos."

"Since when?" Jeff muttered. 

"You don't understand." The man, Russo, pointed at Troy. "It's not just A/C he repairs. He can do plumbing, cars, electrical installments... Even more than that. He repairs man. I've seen it."

"Very nice," the Dean said. "Did you write that at home? Been practicing a long time?" 

"Our ancestors did. We have been practicing," Russo said, failing to pick up on the Dean's sarcasm. 

"What exactly do you want?" Britta asked. 

"Right now? Just to have a conversation."

"Okay," Troy said. "Let's talk."

Russo shifted his weight to the other foot. "A private conversation."

Abed tensed. 

"You do not have to do that, Troy," Jeff said. 

"I know I don't. Because they can't act like a cult anymore, because I said so. I'm their messiah, and if they want to keep worshipping me they have to listen to what I say and stop acting like a cult."

"Well, that logic's air tight."

“Every time I think I understand this school you guys throw me a curveball,” said Frankie.

Troy stood. "We can talk."

Russo relaxed. Troy glanced down at this wrist, where Abed had unconsiously reached out and grabbed him. "It's okay," Troy said. "I'll be back soon. Really soon."

Abed relaxed his grip and returned his hand to his lap.

The rest of the conversation seemed very far away until Troy came back. 

And it wasn't until he returned that Abed even realized just how far away it had felt. When Troy walked back into the room, he realized that he had been speaking without processing, and that the Dean had changed shirts without Abed's knowledge. 

"Hey." Troy sat back down. 

"What happened?" Abed asked urgently. "What'd they say?”

"We just talked," Troy said. "I'll tell you about it later."

He smiled at Abed, which was enough for Abed to accept the explanation for the time being.

"So, Craig," Troy said, trying out the Dean's first name. "I have something for you."

The Dean sat forward. "I'm listening."

Troy pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket and passed it to the Dean. Britta fought a smile. "I'd like to make a donation."

The Dean stared at him blankly, and then tore into the envelope. His eyes bulged out of his head and his hand flew to his chest in disbelief. Frankie peered over his shoulder.

“My God.”

"Why, Troy," said the Dean. "This is..."

"Probably more than you need, since you guys did such a good job saving Greendale." Troy gestured to Abed, Jeff, and Britta with a smile. "But if I know anything about this school, I know you'll need it at one point or another. I want you to have it. Under one condition."

"Well, I'd have to be evil to deny you that with such a generous gift. And I don't have my devil horns with me at the moment." He braced himself. "What's the condition?"

"Study Room F must be known as Study Room Awesome for the rest of eternity. The other study rooms can stay the same."

"That's it?" The Dean laughed, relieved. "After everything I was expecting, that's easy. No problem."

"I was going to request that Greendale be renamed The Super Cool Troy Barnes School of Awesomeness, but I decided on something smaller." Troy looked out at the rest of them. "The Study Room was more important. A lot of awesome stuff happened in there."

"That," said Jeff, "May be an understatement."

"The most awesome," Britta said.

"The awesomest," Abed added.

"The awesomest so far," Troy amended. 

That was a comforting thought.

“Abed,” said Frankie. “I get it now.”

Abed nodded. “I knew you would.”

***

"You know, I didn't want to say this at the funeral," Troy started, "but does Pierce's headstone look like a dick to you?"

The tall, cylindrical headstone with "PIERCINALD ANASTASIA HAWTHORNE: Self- Described Millionaire, Inventor, Legend" engraved on the front was likely meant to resemble Neo Buddhist imagery, but did, in fact, look like a penis instead. 

"Yes. And the two smaller plaques at the bottom aren't doing it any favors."

Troy did something halfway between a laugh and a scoff. "Well, he probably would've laughed. Or called it gay. One of the two."

Troy kneeled down to lay the flowers down at the foot of the gravestone and remained down on the ground.

"Hey, Pierce," he said. "I guess this is kind of weird. I don't really know how to talk to dead people. Sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of your deadness. But I guess if you can hear me or see me you already know I'm talking to your grave... Sorry. I'll start over. Hey, Pierce. I'm back visiting Colorado, so as you may or may not be able to see, I finished the trip. I went to all your check points." He bowed his head and all the air exited his lungs. "And it wasn't easy. It took longer than you said it would. But there were complications. So I don't think that's your fault. It's mine. It's my fault. It's my fault."

Troy was staring like he was caught in a trance, or under a spell. Abed said his name. 

He shook his head and continued. 

"A lot of it was really cool. But there's also a lot that doesn't make sense. And I've got most of your money now, which is really cool but there's a lot of it so I'm trying to figure this all out. I gave some to the study group, and to the school, and some will go to my mom. Hopefully. But there’s still a bunch left. I don’t know what you’d even do with it all. And it's weird because you're not here to talk about it, so I try to imagine what you'd say and do but it's hard tbecause I never imagined you'd give me all this to begin with. But I figured I should at least come and say thank you. So thanks, Pierce. I'm gonna keep trying my best." He looked up at Abed. "Do you want to say anything?"

"No, thank you." The body that laid underneath their feet was no longer Pierce. Yes, the hands that now actively decomposed in the earth were technically the same hands that had popped pain pills and stolen their handshake, but the man who had spouted offensive phrases and secretly cared for all of them was gone. He was gone for good, and he couldn't hear them, so the idea of talking to him didn't make sense to Abed. He didn't want to imagine what was left of Pierce's body, sitting below them with the tracker he planted on him while Pierce was alive. "We should get going soon. My dad is making dinner. He wouldn't want us to be late."

It's a weak excuse and he was pretty sure they both knew it. Gobi wasn't expecting them for at least another hour.

Troy nodded anyways. "Sure. Falafel?"

"Of course. He's been waiting to hear your feedback again."

"I've been waiting to give it. No one makes falafel like your dad." Troy stood, dusted himself off, and gave a final wave to the headstone. "See ya, Pierce. Thanks again."

Abed began to walk away with Troy, stopped, and faced the grave. "Goodbye, Pierce," he said. 

Just in case.

***

"We don't have to do this," Abed said on the doorstep of Troy's mother's house. 

Besides the obvious emotional reasoning, the house was also in the middle of Coldwater, which essentially meant the middle of nowhere. Abed had seen enough horror movies to know that if the only people around to hear you were farmers and fields of corn, it was very possible that you were going to be murdered by a serial killer or a cult of creepy children.

"We could still turn back, if that's what you want."

"Yeah." Troy bounced on the balls of his feet, and then with a surge of energy, he reached out and rang the doorbell. "Yeah, I know."

The woman that appeared before them was short, even shorter than Troy. That's the first thing Abed noticed. The second was that her eyes shined in the exact same way Troy's did when when she cried. 

"I didn't think you'd actually come," she said tearfully, with her arms around her son. "Oh, look at you! You've gotten so big." She cupped his face in her hands, and smoothed his hair the way Abed knew he liked. "When did that happen?"

"Mom," Troy said, "I should've been here sooner."

She waved a hand. "You were away," she said, still tearing up a little. "Traveling the world, I hear."

"But before that, Mom, I'm _sorry-_ "

"Baby, it's _okay._ " She wiped at her eyes. "You're here now. That's what matters." She turned. "And you must be Abed!"

"Yes. Hello Mrs.- uh, Ms. -- Hello Troy's Mom."

She laughed kindly. "Just Cynthia is fine. It's very nice to finally meet you, Abed."

His name fell out of her mouth in perfect condition. "It's nice to meet you, Cynthia."

Her home was cozy and comforting, cottagey without feeling haunted. While it was not particularly tidy, her home was clean. Her rugs were soft and fluffy, and, he noticed as he raised a glass of milk to his lips, none of her dishes seemed to match each other. 

"So, California," she said. "Must be nice. You always liked the heat."

"Exactly," Troy said, "but it's mostly for Abed's job. He makes movies and works on TV shows."

"Oh!" Cynthia's eyes lit up. "Anything I'd know?"

"Reverie Pursuit on Fox is the big one right now," Abed answered. "It's kind of like I.T. Crowd and 30 Rock, but in a video game studio. It's awesome."

"Sounds like it," Cynthia said.

"You don't know it," said Abed, realizing. "That's okay. "

"I don't," she said, "but I'm very excited to watch it."

"Troy helped me make movies when we were in school," Abed told her. "He starred in most of them. He's really good." 

"I believe it," she said, looking at her son. Then, with a determined look, she left her spot at the table to disappear into an adjoining room and reappear holding a large book. "Don't get mad at me," she said with a pointed look at her son as she sat back down and opened the book. "I've been waiting to show someone."

"Oh my god," Troy said when he saw the book, for it was filled with pages and pages of Troy's baby pictures. 

"You always loved being in front of the camera." Cynthia pointed at a polaroid of Troy at age 5 or 6, pinching his cheeks and sticking out his tongue. "You begged me to take this photo. You said it was your crazy face."

"I remember," Troy said. "I think. I remember making the face."

Abed pointed at the picture right next to it. "I've definitely seen you do that before."

Cynthia looked at him. "I hope you'll forgive me for the baby pictures cliche. But he's too cute," she said, "I couldn't resist."

"I like the cliche. And he is," said Abed. "We had a couple baby pictures of ours in the old apartment."

"Probably got those from your father then?"

Troy nodded. 

"He did fight me on some of them." She ran a finger down on the edge of the photo album. "But I got the big book."

The three of them continued to flip through the photos. There's toddler Troy hugging the cat named Troy. There's Troy with his parents, digging a moat around a sand castle, throwing a tiny football with a man Abed didn't recognize, and a very tiny baby Troy swaddled and held in his mother's arms. 

One page had Troy at maybe one year old, sitting on Nana Barnes' lap and bawling his eyes out. 

"Oh, that woman. Horrible," she muttered, and then caught herself. "I'm sorry. I heard she passed. It's not right to speak ill of the dead."

"Eh," Troy said. "She probably would have something to say about us if she were here."

Cynthia stared at him, shocked, and then barked out a laugh. "You're probably right." She went back to the picture. "My God, did she ever scare you."

Troy shifted in his seat. "Mom, there's some stuff I didn't tell you over the phone."

"About your father." Abed wondered if that was the mother's intuition that TV moms always seemed to have.

"He's..." Troy gaze fell to the floor. "I don't think I’m invited back."

Her hands flew to grab his. "Oh, baby, it stings, I know it hurts."

"It was probably overdue. I haven't been to Kingdom Hall in years."

"That's no reason-" She cut herself off. "Well, you know I know how that is."

"Mom." Troy squeezed her hands. "You should know-"

"Are you sure you want to do this with your friend here?"

Abed looked away. He'd been brought back into the scene again.

"Abed's not a friend, he's family."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Is he?" Her voice was low but not disapproving.

"Yes."

"Alright," said Cynthia, bracing herself.

"You should know," Troy continued, "he tells people you cheated."

"Oh." Cynthia blinked. "Well, I figured as much."

"What?! Mom."

"How else do you think he got his marriage approved?" She bit her lip (the same way Troy did when he was conflicted) and turned to Abed. "Are you sure you're on board with all this?"

"I'm in it for the long haul," said Abed.

"That's a brave thing to do." She exhaled sharply. "I assumed he'd say something like that. Otherwise the divorce is religiously invalid. You shouldn't have to worry about these things."

"I'm not a kid anymore," Troy said.

"I know. I can see that," she said, gazing at Troy softly. "I just meant that it's been a long time. I try not to dwell on it anymore. I know it's fresh for you but..."

Troy squeezed her hands back.

"...Life is a lot easier when you don't have to worry about these things. And I want it to be easier for you," she said. "And time helps. Makes it easier, too."

"I should've come here a long time ago," said Troy.

"But you came," she responded. "I knew you would. It doesn't matter when. And you had your school, and your trip, and your... Abed. I'm sure you had a lot going on."

"I still should've been here," Troy said. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed his hand a final time and returned to the book. "Abed, would you like to see some more?"

"Mom," Troy said, with just a hint of annoyance Abed knew he didn't mean. 

"I would," said Abed. "Very much."

The rest of the photo album was mostly in chronological order. It went from young Troy with light up sneakers to a smiling Prom King, though when Abed examined the smile, he found it more hollow than he was used to seeing on Troy's face. On one of the last pages, she quickly flipped past a photo of a teenaged Troy, fresh-faced and frowning with an arm in a sling. His leg was propped up on a chair and covered in a cast. Abed leaned into get a better look, but the photo was already gone. He opened his mouth to say something, but Troy was already speaking.

"Um," he yelled. "What is that?!"

Abed wanted to second that question, but when he followed Troy's gaze he found that he was not looking at the photo album as Abed had been, but out the window. 

"Oh!" Cynthia said. "You've found the cows."

"Cows?" Abed hurried to the window, and Troy filed in behind him. 

"Cows," Cynthia confirmed. "And sheep, and chickens. And one mean old goat."

"You got more animals," Troy said. 

Cynthia nodded. "You want to meet them?"

" _Yes,_ " said Troy.

She looked them up and down. "You may get a bit muddy."

"That's fine," Abed said. "Sacrifices have to be made."

Up close, the cows are just as exciting and about ten times more endearing. 

"Make sure you keep your palm flat," Cynthia reminded him. Abed obliged, and the cow nearest to him ate the apple slices he at been holding out for it. 

"Cows are awesome," Abed said. "They have four stomachs, just like the Inspector has four hearts."

"I wish I had four stomachs," Troy said, carefully patting the head of the cow closet to him. "I could have one that was like, just for desserts. I'd never have to stop eating."

"Watch the goat," Cynthia said, pointing at the offender, who had been beside the cow, eyeing Troy. She threw her own fruit far out into the field, effectively distracting the goat and sending him out into the field after the food. "Here," she said, passing Abed a couple of pears. "They like these."

"You're like their leader," Troy said. "It's awesome."

Abed pat the head of a nearby sheep and held out a pear to it. The sheep made him think of Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger. He ached to be wearing a cowboy hat and a corduroy jacket, and to call out to Troy and lowly admit "I wish I knew out to quit you." More than anything he longed to start a campfire out in the field, pitch a tent and crawl into it with Troy after a long day of herding the sheep-

Abed remembered the ending of Brokeback Mountain with a start. His knees buckled. He took it all back, he didn't want that. It wasn't worth it. 

Instead, Abed found himself trailing after one cow in specific, with a spot that looked like sideways Yoda. The cow lead him further out into the field, intermittently stopping to take food from Abed's hand. When the food ran out, it gazed at him with big, brown eyes, and even pushed its head into Abed's hand a few times. It was a nice feeling.

As soon as he thought this, a sheep hit his head on the back of his legs. He whipped around. 

"I'm sorry." Abed held out his empty hands. "No more food."

He looked back to Cynthia across the field to see if she had more fruit, and instead found her hugging Troy. 

He watched them hug for longer than he was proud of. The way she held him looked warm and comforting. Cynthia was little, but standing on her tiptoes, her arms wrapped all the way around him and stroked the nape of his neck. He knew that Troy liked that. That was probably more of the mother’s intuition. 

He wondered if she sensed him watching, because after some time she waved him over with one free arm. "C'mere, Abed."

Abed trotted over to them. "Yes?"

She kept the one free arm open to him. "Get in here."

Abed blinked. "Why?"

She looked him right in the eye. "Well, you're family right? Get on in here."

To Abed's own surprise, he did. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders and Troy's snaked its way across his lower back and hooked around his waist. 

He was right. The hug was both warm and comforting. 

***

"What's wrong?" Troy asked him when he returned from the airport bathroom. His face must've been negatively emoting.

"Nothing," Abed said. He sat back down next to him. "Well, actually, there was a little boy throwing up in the bathroom."

"Oh. That's no fun."

"Also we need to talk about something."

Troy turned his head. "Okay...?"

"You told your father that we don't lie to each other."

"Right," Troy said, taking a thoughtful sip of the milkshake they had bought from one of the airport shops. "We don't."

"I know," Abed said. "That's why I'm confused about something. That's why we need to talk."

"Okay. Let's talk," Troy said, slightly shaking. "What are you confused about?"

"When we were at your mom's house," said Abed, "she had a picture of you with a broken leg and your arm in a sling."

Troy lowered his milkshake. "Oh."

"The first time our study group met, Annie said you lost your football scholarship because you dislocated both shoulders doing a keg stand/flip. Later, it was always referred to as your leg, and that you faked it to avoid to pressure of playing football, so it wasn’t an actual injury anyway. So all of my notes and all of my simulations of our origins have you with a cast on your leg for a fake injury. I even simulated you doing the flip and pretending to hurt your leg. But your mom has pictures of you with your arm in a sling _and_ your leg in a cast." Abed stopped. "That doesn't make sense to me."

Troy sighed. Slowly, his head came to rest on Abed's shoulder. "I don't want you to look at my face right now. Okay?"

"Okay." Abed's eyes fixed on the row of chairs across from them. 

Abed felt him take a deep breath. "The truth is, it was my shoulder and my leg. I was doing a keg flip, that part is 100% true. Annie... You didn't know her then, but the pills were pretty bad on her. I think some of the details were just kinda hazy. So at first she thought it was both shoulders, and later she said something about my leg, and that's what the rest of the group remembered, and it was technically true, so I just... didn't correct it. I didn't mean to lie."

"Okay," Abed said, still watching the chairs. "So it was both. Your shoulder and your leg."

"Yes."

"But they were fake injuries."

Troy made a sharp crying sound. 

"Troy-"

"I'm sorry," he cried. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," said Abed. "Just tell me what happened."

"I told Jeff," he said. "Our freshman year. I told him the truth. But he misunderstood." 

"What truth?"

"They were real," he whispered. "I hurt myself on purpose."

Abed grabbed his hand without looking, because it was the only thing he could think to do. 

"Jeff didn't get it," Troy continued. "He still thought that I faked it. So sometimes he would bring it up in front of the group. I just- I didn't mean to. I just didn't want to think about it. So whenever everyone thought I faked it, and they thought it was only my leg, I just didn't correct them. I didn't like to think about it. I didn't mean to," he repeated again. 

"It's okay." Abed squeezed his hand. "You didn't mean to. And you told the truth now."

"It's not okay."

"It is," Abed insisted. "You said it yourself. You didn't mean to. It was just hard to think about. Having a conversation like that is like Pandora's Box." 

Troy hummed in affirmation. 

"I'm glad you told me," Abed said. "And I'm glad you're okay.

Troy sniffled.

Abed used his other hand to fully enclose Troy's. "We don't have to think about it anymore if you don't want to."

"Okay."

Abed leaned his head against Troy. “This might be a bad time for my second question.”

Troy wiped his face. “No, go for it.”

“What did the air conditioner repair guys say to you? You never told me.”

“Oh,” said Troy. “That’s easy. They just gave me a way to contact them.” He pulled out a sleek, black business card. “If I’d ever consider repairing stuff again.”

“Would you?”

“Maybe,” Troy said. “I could do it from home. They said there’s people all over LA, they’d just let me know when they needed the messiah for a job.” 

Abed furrowed his brows. “You wouldn’t have to go away?”

“No. I told them wouldn’t do it if I had to leave, and they have to listen to me because I’m still kind of in charge.”

“Hmm,” Abed said. “Cool, cool, cool.”

They sat and basked in the atmosphere the newly revealed information had created. 

"When we get home," Abed said, breaking the silence, "we have a lot more movies to watch. What do you want to watch first?"

Abed felt Troy shift on his shoulder into what he thought might be a smile. "Um... Spiderman?”

“Sounds good,” Abed said. “He’s resilient. Even after his franchises get canceled, he always finds a way back.”

“Yeah,” said Troy. “He really does.”


	5. Continued Communication Studies and Romantic Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abed returns to work, and has several illuminating conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!
> 
> first off, i’d like to give a warning for emetophobia in this chapter. sorry!
> 
> secondly, i’d like to address the b*by dr*ver reference in a previous chapter, and make it clear that i, the writer, condemn the actions of various cast members of this movie, and i was not aware of that when writing it. i’ve decided to leave it since it was written before a lot of new information came to light, but i wanted to make it clear. i wanted to keep the time period if this fic ambiguous before, so i don’t think i’ve said but it’s meant to take place roughly 2ish years post canon, sometime in 2017, so not all of that information would be available to them, either. if i had known a few weeks ago, i wouldn’t have included it and the reference to the movie i planned for future chapter will also be omitted 
> 
> also, the character chihiro was not in my original outline, but i’ve revised and added her to my drafts because i was very inspired by a lot of other fics who introduced a coworker/la friend for abed! i just wanted to address that, it is in no way my original idea. cheers to u guys, y’all write great stuff
> 
> as always, if u liked it, please leave kudos and comments!

It seemed as if Abed had barely stepped into back his apartment when he became sick. 

That wasn't true, of course. It was at least a full day after arriving in LA when he caught the scent of their leftovers heating up in the microwave and promptly threw up into the wastebasket. 

It only felt like he had just gotten home because Abed still felt hazy from traveling and the first day back flew by before Abed had time to realize it had started. 

In hindsight, he thought as he heaved into the garbage can, that may have been a side effect of the oncoming illness. As was the dull ache behind his eyes, the turning of his stomach, and the cold sweat he had been ignoring. Abed really should've seen this coming. 

"Woah!" Troy said from across the room. He was beside him in a second. "Okay, that's not good."

The sour taste in Abed's mouth was overwhelming. His eyes watered and his knees were soft like putty. He'd finished the uncontrollable heaving and he spit into the can one final time. 

"I'm sick," he said.

"I can see that," said Troy. He rubbed his hand across Abed's back, back and forth and back and forth. It warmed the skin underneath but the rest of him still shook like jello. He sank to the floor. 

Troy brought him a glass of water, which he swished around his mouth and spit out. It helped the taste, but his stomach still turned uneasily. 

"You should go somewhere more comfortable," Troy said. "Somewhere that isn't the kitchen floor."

Abed groaned, but followed Troy to the couch in his own time. He laid there with his eyes closed and listened to Troy shuffle around the apartment. A pillow made its way under his head and blanket came to rest on just his feet, comforting him without overheating him. When he opened his eyes, there was a small wastebasket next to the couch and Troy staring down at him. 

"You should stay back," Abed said. "Otherwise you'll get sick, too."

Troy blinked and took two hesitant steps back. He blinked again. "What do you want on TV?"

"The 2nd season with the 6th Inspector," Abed said, rolling over on his side and immediately feeling nauseous and rolling back. "From Netflix, not the DVD."

Troy put it on the TV and walked back into the kitchen. A moment later, he went into the bathroom, and then returned. "Abed?" he asked quietly. "Where do you keep your medicine?"

"I don't have any," Abed said. "Unless you count my comedy collection. They say laughter is the best medicine."

"What? Abed, no. You have to have medicine. Real medicine."

Abed frowned. He knew it wasn't the same, but it still felt like altering his brain chemistry. Also, the taste was usually horrible. If the medicine wasn't a bitter syrup, it was quite literally a tough pill to swallow, or worse yet, an actual needle administered by doctors that punctured his skin and entered his body. "No, I don't."

Troy hid his face behind his hands. "But you're sick."

Abed closed his eyes again. "I don't know what you want me to do."

"I want you to get better. What do you normally do when you get sick up here?"

"I don't normally get sick," said Abed, peeking at him.

Troy gave him a look. "But when you do."

Abed moved his shoulders in what was meant to be a shrug. "Wait it out, I suppose."

"Do you have a thermometer?"

Abed stayed quiet and let his silence answer. 

"Okay," Troy said, sounding exasperated. "I'm going to the store. Will you be okay until I get back?"

"Yes," Abed managed. "You can take my car, if you want."

Troy froze in the middle of lacing his shoes. "I can just Uber."

"I know. But if you wanted to drive you could."

Troy finished putting on his shoes and grabbed Abed's keys. "Okay. Cool. I'll be back soon." 

Troy left and Abed tried to keep his eyes open to watch Inspector Spacetime, but the dull ache forced them closed. It felt like blasphemy, but he couldn't bring himself to open them again. Not until he heard his door opening, and he forced himself to lift his head and look at him.

"I drove," said Troy. "And I'm still alive. I think something's wrong with your brakes, though."

"Yeah, they're terrible. It's not a great car. What did you get?" said Abed, changing the subject. 

"Medicine," he said, as if it was obvious. 

Abed groaned.

"Abed, what did you think I was going out for?"

"Don't know," he answered. "Maybe you wanted some fresh air."

"I wouldn't just leave while you were sick," Troy said seriously, "and you are. You can't just wait it out, Abed, that's crazy. Medicine will make you better."

Abed clenched his jaw. Still, he said nothing.

"Please," Troy continued, "Please just see what I have. It's just over-the-counter-stuff, and unless we have to go to the doctor and get a prescription—"

"No doctors!" Abed yelled, with enough force that his head throbbed again. "I am not going to the doctor."

"I know," Troy said. "That's why I got this. That's why I want you to try this. Otherwise you won't get any better and we'll have to go."

"I'm not crazy," Abed said with just as much force. He changed his mind. "I'm not trying to be crazy."

"I know that." Troy softened immediately. He crouched down and sat on the floor. He looked for a moment as if he were going to crawl forward to Abed, but remembered himself and remained at least two steps away. "I know that, buddy. You're not crazy."

"But I'm acting crazy."

"No," Troy said, "you're acting like yourself. You don't like doctors. I'm sorry. You don't have to go to them for this. Not yet."

"I _know_ that." It's what he had been saying this whole time.

"I just don't you to be sick," Troy said. "And if this works, then you won't be. And it won't get worse and you won't be _forced_ to go. Like with your tonsils."

Abed shuddered at the memory of Troy and Jeff finding him with a knife and a mirror in the apartment bathroom and of the rare look of genuine fear on Jeff's face. Most of all he shuddered from remembering the sound of terror Troy had made, and how it felt to wake up from his tonsillectomy knowing he had been unconscious with doctors poking around in his body. 

"Can I just show you what I got?" Troy continued. "I'm not a doctor. It's not heavy stuff. I'll just show you. Then it's your choice."

Abed nodded. 

"Okay, so there's a lot actually," Troy said, rummaging through the shopping bags. "Because I wanted to be prepared if either one of us got sick again. But I'll just focus on the important stuff." He began pulling out items. "Okay, a thermometer, obviously, the kind you can just hold to your forehead without putting it in your ear or something. Thought that was cool. If you do have a fever, there's Tylenol, and also a bunch of stomach stuff, but we won't worry about that yet. There's Gatorade - don't worry, only the cherry flavor - Ginger Ale, 7Up. Also I got both ginger and peppermint tea, because ginger works but I think it's kinda gross and people say peppermint also helps nausea, so I figured I'd give you options. And I got dried ginger which, again, is kinda gross but it works, and actual peppermints which are basically candy. Obviously we have to make sure you won't puke it up first, but that's not a problem, we'll just take it slow. Oh!" Troy then reached into his own pocket and pulled out a bracelet. "And this. It's called a seaband, LeVar and I got them to rid of seasickness. I don't know if it'll work for you, but I felt better when I wore it. It squeezes your wrist and tricks your brain."

"We?" said Abed, accepting the bracelet. He didn't know if it was actually working, but the pressure on his wrist was soothing regardless. "You said 'we'?"

"Well, yeah. I'll take care of you, buddy."

"It's not going to be like the movies," Abed said. "In the movies when a person takes care of someone else, all they show are the sniffles. Maybe they'll throw up once or twice. But it won't be like that, it'll be worse. It'll be ugly and gross and you'd have to do more than just handing me Kleenex."

"Yep," Troy said unflinchingly.

Abed nodded. "Okay."

"Okay!" said Troy. "Me first."

He held the thermometer up to his own forehead until it beeped and displayed a small green light. "Just checking," he explained. "It looked fun. Your turn."

Troy held the thermometer to Abed's forehead and after a moment, it beeped again, this time lighting up red and shining onto Troy's face.

"Yeah, okay, not so good," Troy said frowning at the results. "Not a problem. Let's make sure you can keep liquids down."

As it turned out, he couldn't. It only took a few minutes for the spoonful of water Troy had fed him to come back up again, mix with bile and sit at the bottom of the trash can next to the couch. It's the beginning of what became a long, repetitive, and thoroughly gross 3 hours. Finally, after Troy had replaced the trash can 4 different times and they've finished almost 6 episodes of Inspector Spacetime, Abed managed to swallow a mouthful of water and keep it down for a whole half hour. 

"Nice!" Troy said, sounding genuinely cheerful. "Ginger Ale?"

Abed nodded and accepted it. 

"You're still warm," Troy said, putting a hand on his forehead. He left the room and returned with a cool, damp rag. "Try that on your forehead. And take a Tylenol."

"You'd make a good nurse," Abed said, savoring the cold and thinking he sounded a bit like Jeff. "But please don't. I don't want to do a medical drama." 

"Fair enough. I wouldn't want to perform emergency surgeries on my friends or have to deal with arrogant-but-handsome doctors anyways," Troy said. "That's what happens in medical dramas, right?"

"Yes," Abed said. "Not ideal."

"Alright." Troy stood. "You should probably get some sleep." He moved to the TV. "On or off?"

"On, but with the volume at 6." 

Troy adjusted the volume and brought Abed the remote.

"You can take my bed," Abed said. "I don't mind."

"Oh," Troy said, looking surprised. "Right. You want to sleep, I'll head off then."

Troy turned off the lights. "Goodnight, Abed." He lingered at the entrance to the pillow fort. "You'll let me know if you start to feel sick again?"

Abed nodded. "You should sleep. You need your rest too."

Troy's lips pulled back into a tight, straight line. "Goodnight," he said, and disappeared into the fort. 

Before Abed knew it, he was waking up to a sharp pain in his stomach, sitting up on the couch, and desperately reaching for the wastebasket. He vomited into it again, and afterwards laid back on the couch, feeling somewhat disgusted by himself. 

He could just go back to sleep and try to ignore it. But he did tell Troy that he would let him know if he felt sick again. He wouldn't want to bother Troy. But he wouldn't want to break his word, either. 

He rolled over and was about to call out to Troy when he saw him, a dark shadow sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. Abed jumped in surprise. 

"Hi, sorry, sorry, it's just me." As Abed's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could better see Troy, his face half illuminated by the glow of the TV screen. He reached the garbage can. "I'll take care of this."

He returned with a handful of toothbrushs still in their packaging. "Here."

Abed stumbled into the bathroom and scrubbed away the bitter taste in his mouth. And then he did it a second time, just for good measure. 

As he groggily made his way back to the couch, he stepped over a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor. Troy crawled onto them once Abed was out of the way. 

"I thought you were going to bed," Abed said, wrapping himself with his own blanket. 

"Yeah, well, you know, Inspector Spacetime." Troy pointed around the TV. "You know how it is."

"What time is it?"

Troy bit his lip. "Almost 3."

"Witching hour," Abed said. He faced the TV and watched. 

"You're not going back to sleep?"

"Are you?" Abed asked seriously. He looked back at the TV. "I'm already awake."

Truthfully, he was feeling a bit tired, but he wanted to be sure he stayed awake if he had to throw up again. 

"Yeah," Troy said, "I get that."

"Quickly, Inspector," Constable Reggie said on the TV. "Lily Taylor needs our help. She needs you to heal her."

"I will do my best, Constable," came the Inspector's reply. "But I am no doctor."

"Why did you want me to go to the doctor so badly?" Abed's tone of voice made it sound more of a statement than a question. He asked it with his focus still forward on the TV rather than on Troy. Even so, he could still see him shift uncomfortably in his peripheral. "It felt like we were fighting. I don't want to fight with you."

"I don't want to fight with you either," Troy said. "I didn't mean to. I wanted you to go if you got worse. I don't want you to be sick."

"I know that," Abed said. He tapped his fingers against each other. "We fought before you left. Before the War-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named. You said that there were times I'm just going to have to trust that you know better. Did you think this was one of those times?"

"I... I guess so," said Troy. "Because you didn't want to go to the doctor _or_ take any medicine. I didn't think you'd get any better if you didn't."

"But there wasn't any real evidence for that yet," Abed said. "There was no evidence then and there's little evidence now that the illness has progressed to that point. The stomach flu, which is what I most likely have, isn't fun but it is fairly common. I've even had it before, and I didn't need to go to a doctor. So why push for it?"

"Abed—" Troy cut himself off. "We're not fighting right now, okay? I don't want to be fighting with you, I just want to talk about this."

"Okay." Abed rolled on his side to look at him. 

"It worried me that you wouldn't take care of yourself. When you tried to take your tonsils out..." Troy's voice broke . "Abed, that was really scary."

"That was a long time ago."

"I know. And I've been gone a long time." He rubbed his forehead anxiously. "I don't know. I panicked, I guess. And I just started thinking about you getting sick while I was gone? And I started thinking like... really bad stuff. Like what would happen if you had gotten _really_ sick and no doctors saw you."

"But that didn't happen."

"I know, but if it had. That's what I was thinking about." Troy looked Abed in the eye. "I know you don't like doctors. I'm sorry for that."

"Is that all it was?" Abed asked. "You were worried about my health?"

"Yes." Troy tilted his head. "Well, it was the main thing."

"What else then?"

"It's really nothing." Troy sighed under Abed's insistent gaze. "I'm thinking about seeing a therapist?"

"What?!" Abed received an extra rush of adrenaline that woke him up further. "Why?"

"Jeff suggested it."

"I don't—" Abed shook his head. "Why would you want to do that?"

"This is what I was worried about. I was worried you'd talk me out of it." Troy shook his head. "I don't want to do this right now. You're still sick, we shouldn't be talking about me."

"No," Abed said firmly. "I don't _get_ it. We can't just move on. I don't understand why you would want to do that." The last thing Abed wanted for Troy was for him to be passed from specialist to specialist, with referrals for blood work and other doctors and thousands of invasive questions. "Why would Jeff suggest that for you?"

Troy didn't answer.

"I don't want to fight," Abed reminded him. "Please. I don't understand. I _need_ to understand. Why would you want to do that? Because I don't get it." He sat up a little bit, movely slowly to avoid upsetting his stomach again. "Why do you want to see a therapist?"

"It's 3 am, Abed."

"We're already awake. That's no reason not to talk about this."

"No, exactly,” Troy said, his eyes wide. “We're already awake. I haven't exactly been sleeping well, lately." 

"You said you were used to the boat," Abed said slowly. "Your first night back. You said you were used to sleeping on the boat."

"Yeah," Troy said, "that's part of it. And my dad.” Troy looked down. "And some other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

Troy got quiet. "Abed, you know how sometimes you have to trust that I know better?"

"...Yes."

"And sometimes I have to trust you. And other times, there's stuff you don't want to talk about so I give you time. Or I try, anyways."

Abed nodded. 

"I don't want to talk about the other part. Not right now." Troy's eyes were closed like he was pained.

"A therapist will make you talk about it."

"Yeah, I know."

"That's the part I don't get," Abed said, pursing his lips. "And I don't know for sure if you should."

"Yeah, well," Troy said, "I haven't decided yet."

"I won't try to talk you out of it," Abed said. "If that's what you decide."

"Okay," Troy said, sounding relieved.

"I don't think I can talk you into it, either."

"I'm sorry," Troy said. "This was not the conversation I was expecting to have this early in the morning." He shook his head. "I don't know. I'm probably not making any sense."

"You are," Abed assured him. "You always sound very intelligent when it comes to your emotions, even when you're unsure of things. And you make it easier to understand." 

Troy's head fell against the pillows. "Huh."

"I'm going to try and sleep now." His stomach wasn't exactly soothed, but it wasn't any worse, and having reached the end of the discussion, he felt the full weight of the night tugging at him. "You probably should too."

"Yeah," Troy said. "Probably."

***

At first, going back to work felt uncomfortable and anxiety-inducing, something Abed had rarely felt while on-set before. Now, with Troy returned form the sea and living in his apartment, it seemed almost irresponsible to leave him alone when they had already spent enough time apart to last them a lifetime. 

And yet, work is work and it is also the culmination of everything Abed has ever dreamed of doing, occupation wise. And being away from work for too long simultaneously made him feel somewhat antsy and uneasy. So, when the new season started filming and the stomach flu had long since left him, Abed went back to work. 

And so did Troy, going on the occasional repair job when the A/C school contacted him with an impossible, local job. More excitingly, Troy also went to a local studio for dance lessons on Wednesdays, which made Abed feel slightly less guilty for leaving. 

Even so, he found himself more excited to come home than he could remember feeling in a long time. His hands shook with an eager restlessness as he opened the front door, just as they had every day since Abed's return to Reverie Pursuit. 

This time, however, he opened the door to find Troy still in his dance clothes, swaying slightly in the middle of the room to some commercial jingle, his back to Abed. When he opened the door, Troy whipped around and granted Abed a smile. The light pouring in through the windows hit the back of his head and gave him a sort of glowing, almost angelic haze. If it were in a film, Abed might've said it was symbolic  
overkill. He wanted to pull out a camera and preserve it anyways. 

"Hey," Troy said, sheepishly but without true embarrassment. "How was work?"

"Good. Really good." Abed threw his messenger bag on the couch and backed out of the room. "I'll be right back."

He hurried down the hall without closing his door. As he made his way down to the lobby and out onto the sideway, he tapped at his phone urgently. It rang only twice before she picked up. 

"Hey!" Annie said. "I'm in the middle of dinner, what's up?"

"Are you alone?"

"Ouch, Abed. Yes." She laughed. "What gave it away?"

"Educated guess," Abed said. "I need help reacting to something."

Annie gave a small squeal of excitement. "Is it the pornstar neighbors again? I like that one."

"No," Abed said. "It's Troy."

"Oh." Annie sounded surprised. "That's a new one." 

"I know. I don't normally need the help with him."

"It happens," Annie said. "Um. What exactly did happen? Did he say something?"

"No," Abed said. He sat down on the curb." "Actually, that's not true. He asked how work was." 

"Right..." Annie said. 

Abed slid his feet against the pavement. "It's not what he said, it's how he said it." 

"How did he say it then?"

"Casually," Abed said. "Like it wasn't everything and it was. He was already in my living room when I got home, and he was still in his leotard and his tearaway pants, and the lighting was like a movie, and he was dancing a little bit because he loves to do it, and he has a beard now, Annie. You saw it." A car honked at Abed so he stood and started pacing. "It suits him. He looks really, really good. And he took care of me and he came back to me and he's staying here and I'm going to live with him so I can't ruin that. Tell me what to do."

"Okay." Annie took a deep breath. "Okay, first off, I think you should have a conversation with yourself about, um... your feelings. And how you feel about him."

"You mean me loving him?" Abed asked. Annie sputtered a nonsensical response. "Annie, I know that. I've known that a long time. The realization is not the problem. I need you to tell me how to act casual and normal so I don't ruin things."

"What!? Abed," Annie gasped. "What do you mean you know?"

"I know I'm in love with him. I've known for years." Abed cocked his head even though Annie couldn't see him. "I thought you knew. I wasn't exactly being subtle those last few years at Greendale."

"Of course I knew. Because I know _you_ , Abed." She sighed. "Or I thought I did. All this time I thought you had no idea. I figured I'd have to guide you to it."

"How could I not know? He makes sense to me." Abed got quiet. He kicked at loose gravel with the edge of his shoe. "Are you mad at me?" 

"No, Abed, of course not," Annie said softly. Abed felt himself relax. He hadn't realized how tense he was until that moment. He felt a little bit like crying even though he knew he wouldn't. "I'm not mad at you, I'm happy. I'm really happy for you, this is great news." 

"I don't know. It's making things a lot harder right now," Abed said. "I need you to tell me what to do." 

"I... I can't tell you exactly what to do here."

Abed groaned. 

"But!" Annie continued. "I really, really think you should talk to him." 

"You want me to confess," Abed realized. 

"Well, yes," Annie admitted. 

"Of course you do. You love romcoms. You're a romantic."

"Aw," Annie interjected. 

"But the fact is, Annie, my movies are much different than yours. I've seen them all, okay? They're usually tragic." He didn't mean to be yelling at her, but his emotions picked up before he could control his tone. "I can't just tell him. That's not how it works for me." He leaned against the building's wall, exasperated. "Or at least, that's what I've deduced, because—spoilers, Annie— there aren't that many characters like me." He huffed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just need your help."

Abed heard what he thought might be the sound of Annie shifting on the couch. "Abed, have you ever considered that I might know what it's like? At least a little bit?"

"But I... You—"

"Yeah," Annie said. Her tone made him imagine her biting her lip. "You know, there's more than one reason I stopped seeing that guy from Bumble."

"Oh." Abed leaned his head back on the wall of the building.

"Yeah. Or, I don't know. I... I think so."

"I'm not sure how I missed that." Abed ran through all of his memories of Annie. "That... actually makes sense when I think about it."

"That's what I keep telling myself," Annie said. "Don't, um, tell anyone yet. I'll do it once I figure things out."

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry I yelled at you," Abed said again. "You should watch But I'm a Cheerleader."

Annie laughed, and at the end Abed heard her sniffle, maybe like she was crying. "I'll put it on the list. You've really got a movie for everything."

"No. Most things, but not everything. I'm still working on it."

Annie made a sighing sound into the phone. "I still really, really think you should talk to Troy about this."

"I've gotten this far without saying anything," Abed said. "I can go longer. In most movies—"

"Abed," Annie said, "You know I would never question you on your film knowledge. But have you considered that you and Troy may be your own narrative?"

"Technically—"

"No, I know. You've developed our show," Annie said. "But apart from that, apart from the group, apart from movie homages. Just you two."

Abed said nothing. 

"I can't tell you what to do," Annie continued, "but I can suggest it. And I strongly suggest talking to him about it. Can you trust me on that?"

"I don't know," Abed answered honestly. "Maybe." He tried to simulate it in his mind and found himself overwhelmed. "Not today."

"That's fine," Annie said. "Completely understandable. But don't put it off forever."

Abed rubbed his face with his free hand. "This is not the conversation I thought we'd be having today."

Annie chuckled and Abed even cracked a small smile. 

"No, but I'm glad we had it."

Abed finally felt himself to return to a homeostasis of emotion. "I think I'm going to go back inside now. I kind of left Troy in my apartment."

She laughed again. "I can just see the look on his face."

"It's probably a nice one." Abed pushed himself off the wall. "I'll think about it, Annie. I will."

"I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah," Abed said. "The three of us could skype and watch Santa Clarita Diet this weekend if you want."

"I'd like that," Annie said. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Abed said. "I'll talk to you later."

They both lingered on the call. 

"I love you," Annie said. "You know that right? You're my best friend."

"I know that. I love you." Abed paused. "I'm not _in_ love with you, in case that's not clear. But I do love you.”

"I figured," Annie said kindly. "Alright. Talk to you soon. Go get 'em."

Abed knew there was little chance of his face betraying him when he returned to his apartment, but he still worried about it. If anyone could read him, it would be Troy. 

Troy was out of his dance clothes and in his pajamas when he walked back in. Long sleeve, long pants, he noticed, even though Abed had long since abandoned his warmer pajamas in favor of more breathable material. 

"Hey," Troy said. "So does 'really good' actually mean bad?"

"No," Abed answered. “It actually was good. I just had to make a call." 

"Oh, good," said Troy. "I was worried."

"No need," Abed said, as if his conversation with Annie hadn't happened at all. The sun had nearly set, so instead of the bright orange haze that had set over him earlier, it was a dark pink glow that hit him perfectly. It's incredibly cinematic and inconvenient for his emotions. "I'm going to make noodles. Have you eaten?" 

"Yeah. But I'll join you."

When Abed sat at their table and stuck his chopsticks into his noodles, Troy said "I have to tell you something. And ask you something."

"Okay," Abed said, still twisting his chopsticks.

"So you know how I did a few A/C jobs?" 

Abed finished slurping a spaghetti strand. "Yes."

"So I told them they didn't need to pay me." 

"That's fair. You're a millionaire after all." 

"Exactly." Troy bit his lip. "So, uh, turns out they did anyways. Well, they paid the A/C repair school and they transferred it to me." He looked Abed in the eyes. "It's a lot."

"What, is it..." Abed tried to think of what the average price may be for an A/C repair job. "Like five hundred?"

Troy scrunched his eyes. "Thousand."

He dropped his chopsticks. "A thousand dollars?"

"Five thousand," Troy said, now peeking between his fingers. 

"That's... That's a lot of money for one job."

"Well," said Troy, still hiding, "actually it's five thousand for each job."

"You're joking." Abed thought his jaw might be on the ground like a Looney Tune. 

"I didn't tell them too!" Troy said. "I think the A/C repair school might've padded it to make sure I'll still accept the work." 

Abed shook his head in disbelief. "You couldn't stop making money even if you tried." 

"Literally," Troy said, finally removing his hands. "Pierce's lawyers and accountants and stuff helped me come up with a budget and stuff, which means I theoretically could be fine the rest of my life. And I wanna stick to it obviously, but..." Troy shook his head. "I don't want to stop doing A/C work. It feels wrong to ignore it if no one else can fix it but me." 

"That makes sense," Abed said. 

"And obviously, I'll find a place for most of this money to go, I can't just... use all of it on myself. That just seems wrong." Troy shivered. "But we do have a _lot_ of spending money, regardless. Which brings me to my question." 

Abed raised his eyebrows and awaited the inquiry. 

"Do you still want to move out?" Troy asked. "Together obviously, but out of this apartment?" 

"Oh," Abed said. "Yeah, I suppose so. We could get a place with room enough for the both of us. And more than 3 rooms." 

"Right," Troy said. "So there's a follow up question."

Abed gestured for him to continue. 

"What would you say about a house, rather than an apartment?" 

What would he say? He'd say it sounds incredible, and very permanent, which also sounds terrifying, because what if they buy a house and Troy doesn't like him anymore, but they're homeowners now so it's harder for him to leave. He'd also say it made something in his chest flutter a bit, to think about multiple rooms and kitchen sinks and bathroom tiles and a garage that belonged to him and Troy and no one else. They could put up a fence. They could get a real mailbox. 

"I'd say that sounds awesome," is what he said out loud. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Troy said, looking relieved. "Nothing against your apartment, it's just—"

"Small," Abed finished. 

"And not as permanent," Troy said. "I want to live with you. So I want something that will last. Not right away, but we could maybe start looking?" 

"I'd like that a lot," Abed said. He picked up his noodles and moved to the living room. "C'mon. Let's watch House Hunters to celebrate." 

Somewhere around their 5th or 6th episode, Troy yawned for the 4th time. 

"Let's call it a night," Abed said. 

"No, let's keep watching," Troy insisted. "I know what you're thinking. It's just because I had a long dance day. My muscles are tired. I can keep going.”

"That's not true."

Troy froze and sighed. "No it isn't."

"Every morning, I wake up and you're already gone," Abed said. "Try to stay the whole night."

"It's been really bad the past few days," Troy said. He stared down at his feet. "I don't think I should." 

"Just try it." Abed turned off the TV and walked toward the blanket fort. "I'm going to bed, you can either join me or not."

To his great delight, Troy crept into the fort after him and immediately crawled under the covers. Abed turned to pull off his jeans and pull on a large Bart Simpson graphic tee, and when he turned back, Troy's eyes were already closed.

So Abed had succeeded, at least for the time being, in getting Troy to try and rest. The only problem was that Abed himself wasn't in the least bit tired. But sacrifices had to be made. 

He tried not to move too much. Instead, he stared at the ceilings and tried to visualize sheep to count. That in itself was difficult to do, until he turned it into a simulation of sheep, which eventually turned itself into a simulation of killer robot sheep against Abed's will, which was difficult to count and not at all relaxing. He tried to list as many mainstream sitcoms as he could think of in reverse chronological order, but it just got him worked up about the unjust cancellation of Freaks and Geeks again. 

So he rolled onto his side, slower and more gentle than he ever had in his life, and stared at Troy's profile. 

He watched him for longer than he meant to. Abed had always found Twilight too histrionic for his taste and the particular scene where Edward watched Bella sleep to be somewhat creepy. But for everything he disliked about the series, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could understand Edward's fascination. 

Troy's eyelids weren't squeezed shut, but they weren't loosely resting, either. Every so often, he saw movement underneath them, tracking whatever Troy was dreaming about. When they lived in Colorado, Troy would have dreams with plots complex enough to rival Tolkien. Abed wondered if he still dreamt like that. 

The hand closest to Abed laid at his side, underneath the blanket, but the other one held the blanket and laid on Troy's chest, not far below his chin. His legs were bent but flat against the mattress and tucked underneath the blanket as well. 

His lips were parted, just slightly, and Abed thought if he looked hard enough he could actually see Troy's breath with each rise and fall of his chest. Every so often, his nose twitched. Abed spent most of his time watching that. 

Troy slept peacefully, until suddenly, Abed realized he wasn't. It began with his eyes darting back and forth behind his eyelids, and his breath hitched and then released in one sharp exhalation. Abed looked to see his grip on the covers had tightened and his legs kicked out beneath them. 

Abed moved in closer, unsure of what to do. Troy was making noise then, quietly. Abed almost didn’t hear it at first. It was as if he were yelling — or rather, whimpering — with from the back of his throat with his mouth still closed. Abed watched helplessly as his breath turned uneven and racked through his whole body. 

After what felt like several long, miserable years, Troy's eyes flew open and he sat up, gasping for air. His hands went straight to his face, covering and rubbing his eyes. Troy swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there as if he were contemplating leaving. 

"Troy."

His head whipped around and he stared at Abed with wild eyes.

"You don't have to go," Abed said. "You can stay here and try to sleep again."

Troy took a deep breath, shook out the excess energy in his hands, and nodded. He wordlessly crawled back into the bed. 

Abed would've expected him to lay with his back to Abed, or at the very least, on his back in the position he had occupied earlier that night. But he didn't. Instead, he faced Abed and curled all of his limbs into something like the fetal position and eventually pressed his forehead into Abed's chest. He continued to draw shaking, gasping breaths. Abed thought he might've been crying. 

"I'm in LA," he mumbled after a little while. 

"Yeah," Abed said. "I'm here too."

Troy hummed. Abed could feel his breath hit his chest.

"Your apartment," he said slowly. "Did I wake you?" 

"I was already up." 

Troy gripped the fabric of Abed's shirt. "Oh."

"Is this what you meant when you said it got bad?" Abed asked him. 

Troy exhaled lowly. "Yeah." 

Abed wrapped an arm around Troy's back. "This happens a lot."

"Not as much as you're thinking."

"But more than once." 

Troy paused. "Yeah."

Abed pulled him in closer and sat with his thoughts. He listened to the sounds of Troy slowly regaining a steady breathing pattern. Every now and then his breath hitched again, and Abed would wait until it passed. 

"Troy," he eventually said. "I changed my mind."

"Hm?" Troy hummed weakly. 

"I think you should go to therapy." Abed wanted to look him in the eyes because that that was the best to show he was serious, but he didn't want to move Troy from the spot he had curled up in, so he ended up saying it over Troy's shoulder. "I still don't really get it, but that's probably why you should go." 

"Yeah," Troy sniffled, his voice sounding small. 

"I don't know how I didn't know," Abed said. "I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to," Troy said. 

Abed wished that answer made him feel better.

***

_check it! we need 6 of them_ Troy's text read. Abed clicked on the link and a collage of pictures of cats with Yoda ears popped up on his phone. He smiled, took a bite of his sandwich, and typed his response. 

_eat mice and drink milk, they will._

"Excuse me," said a perky voice, tearing Abed from his thoughts. He looked up. 

"Hi, sorry." The woman in front of him was nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet and shifting her weight from side to side. She looked to have energy radiating off of her by the second. "It's just.. you're Abed, right? I just was walking by on my lunch break, I mean, obviously I was on my lunch break, because so are you... Anyways. Sorry. You are Abed, right?"

"Yes," he said, setting down his phone. He look at her inquisitively. 

"I'm Chihiro," she said, sticking out a hand which he accepted and shook. "I just started at Reverie Pursuit this season. Just moved to LA, actually. I'm still trying to learn people's names. And faces. Got this one right though!"

"Chihiro," Abed said. "Like Spirited Away."

She smiled. "Yeah, actually. But I came first. And I like Howl's Moving Castle best."

"That's a good choice," Abed said. "I like Arrietty."

"Really?" she said. "I would've guessed Princess Mononoke."

"You'd have a guess for me already?" Abed asked, amused and not yet sure if he should be put-off by her. "We just met."

"I don't know, you seem like you'd like magic and demons and spirits and stuff." She shrugged. "Just a wild guess. I just think it’s kinda fun to try and predict stuff like that. Human behavior, you know. I'd also guess you're an Aries, for the record."

"I am," Abed said. "But I don't know how much that says about me. And you're right, I do like magic. But I like Arrietty better because I like how the Borrowers see things from our world. It's a completely new perspective. Not to mention the worldbuilding." Abed stopped himself. "I'm sorry. I've been told not to lead with cinematic analysis."

"No really, it's fine," Chihiro said. "This is already the longest conversation I've had with anyone here.” She glanced at the open seat across from him. “Do you mind if I eat with you?" 

Abed shook his head. "Go ahead."

"You know, people usually tell me not to lead with movie talk, too." She quickly unwrapped her own food and started eating. "I'm sorry. I'm coming on really strong, I can tell. We can just pretend it never happened."

"No," Abed said, "I like it. Sometimes I come on pretty strong, too."

She gave him a look of disbelief. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Yeah. You will." Abed's phone lit up and shined Troy's message at him. 

_do cats even understand language? if we talked to one like yoda, would it understand the difference from regular english? this is wrinkling my brain_

"You're awfully smiley," Chihiro said. Abed snorted. "Did I say something funny?"

"People don't usually say that to me," Abed said. "But I have been practicing."

"It's paid off," she said. She nodded at his phone. "What is it?"

"My best friend Troy," Abed said. "Also my roommate. He just got back from sailing the world. He's the coolest person I've ever met."

"That's high praise."

"He's earned it."

Chihiro smiled knowingly. "So what else can you tell me about this cool Troy?"

"Where to start..." Abed reflexively reached into his bag for his notebook. When his hand closed around nothing, he remembered, and his mouth went dry. "Actually, I'll start with a picture."

He scrolled through his phone's gallery and settled on a picture of Troy next to a very large fish they had found in the marketplace last week. 

"Oh, he's a looker," Chihiro said. A look of horror fell over her face. "I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Abed said. "You're right."

***

"Damn it." Troy scraped the burnt pancake off of his pan and onto a stack of other darkened pancakes. "Okay, next one's going to be perfect."

"You know, I could always just make something," Abed said from his seat on the counter. 

Troy gasped in mock indignation. "Never!" He poured the batter into the pan. "You make enough dinner. My turn." He did a quick spin and sang along to the music. "Don't breakin' my heart!"

He held the end of his spatula out to Abed.

"Excellent use of the 'random-household-object-as-a-microphone' trope."

Troy tutted. "C'mon."

Abed sighed and leaned in. "I won't go breaking your heart!"

"Yes!" Troy clapped his hands together and spun again. "That's what I'm talking about." He flipped the pancake. "Ugh. Annie made it look so easy." 

"She perfected pancake making," Abed said.

The 70s playlist shuffled and started playing Come Sail Away by Styx. 

"Skip!" Troy yelled immediately. Abed reached for his phone and skipped to Sister Sledge's He's The Greatest Dancer.

"Alright," Troy said, starting to move. "This is good. This one's going to work." 

"You said that already." 

Troy raised an eyebrow. "That's because I mean it," he said, shuffling to the music. 

Abed pointed at him and mouthed the lyrics to the song. _He's the greatest dancer that I've ever seen._

Troy pointed at himself, pretending to be surprised, mouthed _Me?_ and batted his eyes. 

"We should get you a pair of bell bottoms."

Troy's eyes got wide. "Don't tempt me." 

He transferred one perfect pancake onto a different plate. "Boom!" 

"That's a good one," Abed said jokingly. "Think you could do it again?" 

"Psss-sha," Troy said with a wave of his hand. "Just you wait." 

Several 70's songs and burnt pancakes later, they have 2 perfect pancakes each, complete with chocolate chips and more toppings than any other pancake had ever seen. 

"Can I have that?" Troy said, pointing to the whipped cream. 

Abed passed it and watched him pile it on top of his pancake. 

“Wow.”

“It’s like a mountain,” Troy said, sticking a fork into it.

In the middle of their meal, the music shuffled and suddenly, Dancing Queen was blasting through their speaker. 

For reasons he couldn't explain, Abed was suddenly sick to his stomach. He hopped down from the counter and rushed to the garbage can. He gripped the sides of it, breathing heavily and wondering if he would puke. 

"Turn it off," he managed to say. The music shut off and he felt Troy at his side. "I'm sorry. Sometimes ABBA makes me feel sick."

"You too?" Abed looked up at him. Troy's face was pale and breaking a small sweat. "Levar and I tried to see a production of Mamma Mia in Greece. I thought I was going to pass out."

"I always wondered," Abed said, slowly coming back to himself. He abandoned the wastebasket and stood to lean against the counter. "My best guess is that it's something to do with the Halloween we can't remember. It only started happening after that night and also sometimes I regain short memories from the party and there's usually ABBA playing in the background. That's the most sense I can make of it."

"What do you remember?" Troy asked.

"Not much," Abed said. "Sometimes... I remember you falling. And you changed your costume." Thinking about it and gazing at Troy's face spiked Abed's anxiety levels. He couldn't explain it — he could barely understand it at all — but he was suddenly worried for Troy. He wanted to protect him. He would sacrifice himself to make sure it happened. His heart burned. 

"I remember that," Troy said. "I think. But it makes me feel bad. I don't know why."

"I think I know what you mean. I thought that feeling would go away when we cloned ourselves." Abed was abruptly aware of how close Troy was to him. "I thought a lot of stuff would go away. But it didn't."

"Oh?" As close as he already was, Troy took a step closer. 

"Yeah," Abed said. He looked to his feet. "Sometimes I'd forget I was supposed to be a clone, because I'd miss you so much." 

He surprised himself with his candor, and it made him shiver. 

"I know what you mean," Troy said. "Sometimes I'd forget, because I'd get scared. And I'd miss you." Troy smiled sheepishly. "But I always remembered, because of the homing pigeon instincts you gave me."

"But you didn't go home," Abed said. "You came here. The homing pigeon instincts didn't work."

"No," Troy whispered. "It worked."

Abed wasn't sure what the right thing to do was, so he did what felt right. His hand reached for Troy's face, his fingertips gently grazing his cheek. His hand moved until he was cupping Troy's face and his thumb made a circle on his cheek. 

"What're you thinking?" Troy murmured.

"I'm thinking that I should be honest," Abed said. His hands trembled. "I'm thinking this is the scene where I kiss you."

 _"Yes,"_ Troy breathed, so Abed did.

Kissing Troy was simultaneously different from any other person Abed had ever kissed, and also incredibly familiar. Abed didn't think he had ever kissed someone he knew so well, except maybe Annie while he was Han Solo. 

But Abed wasn't playing a character, he was himself, feeling somewhat exposed and kissing his best friend in his kitchen. He was still holding Troy's face with one hand and the other snaked its way around Troy's waist to pull him closer. Somewhere along the way, Troy had draped his own arm around Abed's neck.

Troy kissed him like an old golden age movie, or like there's a heart bordering them and zooming in on their faces. Part of him felt like he should be tap dancing and singing to strangers about love and another small part, in the back of his head reminded him that _this_ was his reality. 

Troy tasted sweet like whipped cream.

"Wait," he said, pulling away. "Wait, wait, wait."

Troy froze with his hands out in front of him. "I'm sorry!” he yelped. “We can just forget this ever happened."

 _"No,"_ Abed said. "Is that what you want?"

"I—"

"Be honest," Abed said, pointing a finger. "I need you to be honest, because I'm not sure what you want, and Annie told _me_ to be honest with you, and I'm trying to but I need to know first. Is that what you? Do you want to forget about it?" 

"No," Troy admitted. "No, I don't." 

"Okay," Abed said, his hand running through his hair and making it stick up straight. "Okay. I have something to show you." 

He hurried into the other room and kneeled before his DVD cabinet. 

Troy trailed in behind him. "Abed?" 

"Sit down," Abed told him. He reached into the cabinet, pushed past the DVDs, and pulled out several worn spiral notebooks. 

He brought them to Troy. 

"Your notebooks?" Troy said. "I thought they were your personal private business." 

"They were. I hid these right before I left to get you from the airport because I got worried you'd see them. Read it."

Troy still looked apprehensive, so Abed pushed them into his hands and sat next to him on the couch. "Read it," he repeated. "I want you to." 

Troy opened the most recent notebook. There's many additional pages that were taped and stapled into the notebook that started spilling out the moment Troy opened it. 

"These are my letters," Troy said. 

"And several maps," said Abed. "You guys were uncomfortable with me using my trackers, but I still wanted data on where you were. In Castaway, Helen Hunt does something similar for the fiancé she lost at sea. I thought it would be too obvious if you saw it."

"Abed, this is—"

"Keep reading," Abed said. "There's more. You can skip over the stuff about the rest of the study group, it isn't as relevant."

Troy opened the other notebooks and carefully read each page before turning it. Every so often, Abed glanced over his shoulder and read a few phrases. 

_Troy Barnes as potential jock archetype. Pair with elderly millionaire? Annie from his origins said he lost his scholarship in a keg stand._

_Troy = fixation on "butt stuff." Hidden emotionality. Explore this_

There was a bulletpoint list of information that was crossed out and replaced with _He cannot be got._

_October 15th 2009. Friends don't lie._

_Great fear of rats. He insists on hiding this. Shame?  
Troy is willing to overcome this fear to help and friend.  
Troy and Abed friendship is developing.  
He has a nice singing voice. _

_The unrequited love plot line is not worth exploring. Focus energy on buddy comedy_

_Troy is still athletic, but not the jock role that had been previously given to him. See if he would consider dancing on-screen for a role._

_Note for potential Kickpuncher sequel: Troy takes direction well, even when uncomfortable. Willing to sacrifice for the vision of the director_

_Note on Origins: Troy has a strained relationship with grandmother. possibly parents. proceed with caution_

_How to make Troy happy:  
extra chicken  
monkey  
nicknames  
sports  
video games  
stable internet connection  
validation of emotions  
DO NOT JUMP THE SHARK._

_Memories from Halloween 2010:  
?  
screaming  
Troy falling  
costume change?  
the Dean's music  
there may have been a genre shift here. _

_December 4th, 2010 - Troy becomes man.  
Note: Tattletale is poorly received. Drop emotional plotline discussing man in bar.  
Troy Birthday Episode reboot? less people. He deserves a happier episode_

_Troy's willing to commit to intense formats for emotional benefit of other character. Has additionally gained the ability to manipulate the medium, making him one of two characters with the ability to do so._

_Valentine's episode walked a very fine line. Leaning into romance could have unfortunate consequences._

_Add to Troy character traits: Intense jealousy. Heartfelt apology dinner will ease this. Additional opportunities for dine and dash antics._

_Personal note: Moving in together may either ease the pain or heighten it._

_Troy Sleeping Habits:  
Will sleep in until at least 11 am on weekends if uninterrupted  
Drools during REM but denies this  
Clutches pillows to chest while sleeping  
Roughly 66.66% chance of Troy laying his head on Abed's shoulder during movies after 10:30 pm. Do not move and he will stay there and sleep  
Occasional sleep talk, topics include: Pierce, turtles, football, Abed (4x), sweaters, Clive Owen (2x), the ocean, tornadoes._

There's many, many pages on the different timelines, beginning with the header _THE DARKEST TIMELINE: TROY LEAVES_

_When prompted to do what makes him happiest, Troy chooses to watch TV with Abed. Audiences and Abed alike will find this endearing_

_Annie enhances Troy/Abed dynamic, rather than toning it down.  
The Annie/Abed friendship feels different* than Troy/Abed  
*not worse. just different_

_!!!!!!!!Britta/Troy?!!!!!  
Run simulations. _

_Investigate: Troy initially states he is not angry, even when he is.  
Evil Abed may be necessary for processing this information._

_There was a pillow war.  
No further notes. _

_Preservation of Troy/Abed dynamic is top priority above all else._

_Troy/Britta development.  
No further notes._

_Reminder of empathy.  
Allow the development.  
Full Dreamatorium no longer essential. _

_Despite romantic obligations, Troy will still rescue Abed from British men.  
Do not let it get your hopes up._

_Troy will rely on high concepts to get through difficult conflicts. Troy will still rely on Abed.  
End simulations Troy/Britta._

_Note on Origins: Troy's injury - faked leg injury. Sync all simulations, adjust previous notes._

_1 month post grad: Annie and Troy show no signs of moving out. Continue current behavior._

_Post ACB attack, Troy responds well to displays of comfort from movies._

_Note: make adjustments to Troy's primary motivation.  
Despite regular notes on Troy's predictable behavior, he will ultimately act out of character.  
Further development of Troy will be difficult to chart. _

_Consider allowing room for romantic partner. The emotion must have an outlet._

_Note: Kickpuncher has lost appeal. Remove from movie night._

_Understand that Troy may not return._

_Understand it is now unlikely Troy will return._

_Consider LA jobs._

_Grant is not a good Troy substitute._

_Most LA roommates do not fit the Troy archetype.  
There is no one like Troy._

There were still several pages left in the last notebook, but Troy made a soft weeping sound and closed it. 

"You're crying," Abed said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No," Troy said. "It's incredible. _Abed,_ it's..." Troy wiped his eyes. "I had no idea. I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to."

Troy shook his head. "I mean, I went all that time... I didn't know if you loved me or not." 

"I did," Abed said. "I do. I’m not Clone Abed anymore. I think reverted back to Original Abed not long after you left. I’m the same Abed who wrote that.”

"I’m not a clone anymore either. I didn't really figure things out until I left," Troy said, "but I love you, too, man. Not just in a friend or a bro way, I mean I... I really love you."

Abed nodded. "I'm going to kiss you again." 

Troy nodded back eagerly. "Please.”

So he did, slower this time. It felt sweeter. Like they had all the time in the world. 

Abed realized gleefully that they did.


	6. Exercises in Prospective Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abed and Troy make several plans for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, a few more quick notes  
> tw warning for discussion of scarring, implications of troy's run in with the pirates - just wanted to make sure there was a warning for that.  
> and oh? that actor in [The Big Sick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcD0Daqc3Yw)? he sure looks [familiar...](https://community-sitcom.fandom.com/wiki/Lapari) oh well, probably nothing
> 
> as always, please leave and comment and kudos if u liked it!

"Okay," Abed said, hopping up to sit on the counter and adjusting his handheld camera. "Let's review."

Troy, standing across from him and leaning on the opposite counter, smiled. "You're filming from up there?"

"Angles. Also sitting on the counters makes it feel like a quirky coming of age movie. HGTV time, c'mon." Abed held the camera up to his face and passed him his notes. "Actually, on House Hunters, they have one house picked out beforehand and we actually have to make a choice. So it's not exactly the same."

"That really ruins the magic," Troy said, frowning slightly.

"We've got our own magic," Abed said. He gestured to the notes. "Review for the camera."

"Alright." Troy held up the notebook and read from it. "House A. Close to the studios, so it would be an easy commute for you. There's a pool, which is cool."

"Very cool," Abed said from behind the camera.

"It was really expensive," Troy said. "Even for us."

"Also, none of the guest rooms were really suited for Dreamatorium 2: Electric Boogaloo. I'm pretty sure I wrote that down."

"So that's a no go?"

"It's not ideal. I've really, really missed having a full Dreamatorium," said Abed. "And now that we're dating, there's a whole new subsection of movie tropes and simulations for us to act out. It's basically essential."

There's a twinkle in Troy's eyes. "I'm excited."

Abed returned the look. "You won't know what hit you."

Troy smiled brightly – mildly embarrassed, but mostly excited. "Okay then, House A is off the table. So, House B..."

He flipped the page of the notebook and failed at masking his look of immediate distaste.

"You're frowning," Abed said. "You don't like it."

"It's not that I didn't like it," Troy said. "I liked parts of it." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What did you think?"

"I think," said Abed, "that I want to hear what you think first."

"It's really fine. It's not that bad, it's just..." Troy sighed. "There's only one bedroom, if we're taking the Dreamatorium into account. Our bedroom and that's it. There's not any room for guests or... anyone else.

Abed blinked. "I see."

"And there's not much of a yard," Troy continued. "And I know things with my dad are... whatever they are now, but when I was a kid he used to bring me out in the yard and just let me run around and blow off steam. And then my uncle would come over and we'd play catch. And when you live in apartment, you don't really have a yard like that and you don't have one when you're sailing and I guess I just... I don't know, whenever I pictured a house of my own I always thought there would be a yard. I'm sorry. This is dumb."

"No," Abed said immediately. "It's not dumb. You're being honest. If that's what you want, it's what I want. Let's see House C, then."

Troy returned to the notes. "... This is the one with the patio and the weird tiles in the kitchen."

"That was nice," Abed said. "We can fix the kitchen. Or not, I honestly don't really care either way. The kitchen can have weird tiles if we want it to."

"I guess you're right," Troy said. "I would still probably fix it."

"Fair enough."

"And you liked the TV room," Troy said, studying the page. "You wrote that several times."

"It'd be easy to shut out the light in there while we watch movies," Abed said. "And there's plenty of room for a Dreamatorium."

"Very true," Troy said. "It's a bit further from work, though, right?" He doubled checked the notes.

"Yes," said Abed.

Troy searched his face. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Do you like the house?"

"Well, yeah," Troy said, "I like it fine, but if you don't want to make that drive, then obviously we don't have to do that."

"Like I said," Abed replied, "I view driving as a sort of necessary evil. I don't look forward to it, but it is something I have to do. I wouldn't mind commuting a little bit further, as long as I could figure out the best route. And also a good driving soundtrack to make it feel like a movie."

"Huh," Troy said. "That may change some things."

"What do you mean?"

"Honestly?" He put the notebook down. "I don't know if any of these are right."

"Okay," Abed said simply.

"Okay?!" Troy asked. "I thought you'd be mad."

"No, I'm not mad. We're making a choice and that means we just ruled out a bunch of options. In a way, that kind of means we're closer to actually making a choice," said Abed. "What're you thinking, then?"

"I don't know," Troy said. "I love it here. I love California. And I _love_ that you get to work on a show like Reverie Pursuit, but... I don't know. Maybe living in _Hollywood_ isn't really... for us?"

"You want to start House Hunting in other neighborhoods."

"Maybe? If that's okay with you?"

"It's okay with me," Abed said. "I don't have an emotional connection to the Hollywood area. It's expensive and I really don't need to be neighbors with these people, anyways."

Troy smiled. "Cool."

Abed brought the camera down. "To be continued, then. I don't think they really do cliff hangers on HGTV but for our purposes I think it's required. We'll just keep looking."

He was still sitting on the counter, so he set the camera down next to him. Troy pushed off his own counter and moved toward Abed.

"I'm really glad I get to do this with you," Troy said quietly, putting a hand on either side of Abed's legs and moving in closer. "It would be a lot more confusing and a lot scarier without you."

"You don't think we're moving too fast?" Abed asked, his lips mere inches from Troy's.

"No," Troy said. He tilted his head. "We've lived together before. I know I love you, I know I want this. Don't you?"

"Yes," Abed said quickly. "Yes, I do. Very much. Of course I want it. I just don't know how conventional it is."

"Well," Troy's right hand crept to Abed's thigh, "conventional's never really been our thing."

Abed reached around his waist. "And you'd tell me if I was doing something wrong. Moving too fast or otherwise," he assured himself. He pulled Troy closer. "We don't lie. You'd tell me."

"You're doing everything right." he said. Abed pushed his lips together in a tight line. "I'd tell you. I love you."

And then he leaned forward, finally closing the short distance between them and kissing him. His hand had made its way to Abed's lower back, the other gently cupping his face. Abed's heels kicked against the counter happily and wrapped around the backs of Troy's knees. Even through the kiss, Abed felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

"You're so smiley," Troy said, pulling away. He pushed aside a strand of Abed's hair that was so long it was nearly a curl. "I noticed that when I first came back."

"I suppose," Abed said. "I started practicing it. Now it's just sort of a habit."

"You smile when you're happy."

"I smile when I'm happy," Abed repeated. "I always did, it was just... limited. I thought it might look weird," he admitted.

"I promise it doesn't. You have a really nice smile. Practiced or not," said Troy. "Was there... a reason you were practicing?"

Abed furrowed his eyebrows. "I wanted it to look nice for Rachel."

"Your girlfriend."

"My girlfriend," Abed confirmed. "I didn't know if she'd be able to read me like you could. You always knew when I was happy even if I wasn't smiling. Turns out she was pretty good at it, but I didn't know that at the time."

"You really liked her," Troy said. It didn't sound like a question.

"Yes," said Abed. "There was a point where I didn't think you'd ever come back. I thought I would have to move on."

"Of course I'd come back." Troy almost sounded like he was pleading with Abed. He searched Abed's face. "I'll always come back to you."

Abed switched characters. "You're the only man who's ever touched me," he said, quoting Moonlight. "You're the only one."

He knew that Troy would know the reference because he had bawled his eyes out watching it just a few nights before.

Troy leaned forward to kiss him again. "Is that true?" he asked quietly when he finally pulled away.

"No," Abed admitted lowly after a moment. "But you're the only one that matters."

***

"I may have done something bad," Troy told him one day after work.

"We can fix it." Abed dropped his bag. "What is it, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, I promise," Troy insisted. "I just, um... I may have gotten carried away."

Abed cocked his head.

"Here," Troy said, leading him out of the building. "I'll show you. But once we get outside you have to close your eyes."

Abed nodded eagerly and the moment he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he squeezed his eyes shut and additionally covered them with his hands.

Troy took his arm. "I'll lead you. I would cover your eyes for you but I don't think I'm tall enough."

Abed nodded. "Not every trope is a perfect fit. I understand."

Troy had him make at least two right turns. "Okay," he said, putting his hands on Abed's wrists. "If you hate it, that's fine, I'll fix it, just be honest."

"Okay..." Abed said, and Troy pulled his hands away from his eyes.

Sitting before them was a bright red, vintage-style convertible with the top already down. It looked so shiny Abed thought he might be able to see his reflection in the side.

"I don't understand," he said.

Troy looked at him. "It's yours. If you want it! If not that's fine, I'll figure it out, I just kept thinking about you driving that old car, which is not very safe, by the way, and I know you don't really _like_ driving anyway, so if you hate it that's fine but I was also thinking that maybe you would like it more with a different car because it would be more like a movie, especially if you'll ending having to drive further to get to work... But if I was wrong it's really fine," he rambled.

Abed approached the car and hovered his hand just above the red paint.

"Abed?" Troy said from behind him. "What're you thinking?"

"Why, this car could be systematic," Abed said in his best Danny Zuko voice. "Hydromatic." He whipped around to face Troy. "Ultramatic." He pulled on the strings of his hoodie as if he were popping his collar. "Why, it could be Greased Lightnin'!"

With that, he held Troy's wrist and pulled him in closer so they were almost nose to nose.

"You like it, then?"

"I love it," Abed said, quickly giving him a kiss. Troy pressed the keys into his hand.

"Does that make me Sandra Dee?"

Abed considered it. "It's not a perfect analogy. And it's a bit sexist anyways. Come on," he said, getting into the car.

"Where are we going?" Troy asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

"We need leather jackets," Abed said. "And/or poodle skirts. So, thrift shop."

"Awesome," Troy said.

"Peachy keen, Jellybean."

It would be unnerving how much Abed's demeanor changed in the new car if it didn't feel so _awesome_. He wouldn't call himself a materialistic person by any means, but having the car made him feel _good_. He even switched lanes with confidence.

"The only problem is the score for this scene," Abed said, trying to figure out the radio with one hand. "But we can figure that out later."

Troy made a face at him, mushy, lovestruck, and over-exaggerated. "Hopelessly devoted to you..." he sang, slightly off key.

Abed grinned. "There you go, that's much better."

He reached over and grabbed his hand.

"There's still some issues with the movie," Abed continued, "but you sing it well."

In the thrift stop, they found only one leather jacket, which Troy instantly put on. He spun around in the aisle, gleeful.

"Nice," Abed said, his eyes bright.

"I'm swimming in it," Troy said, lifting up an arm. It was true, the jacket was very large on him. "You take it."

"I don't think it'll be much better on me," Abed said.

"Maybe not," Troy said. "But you should still have it. I want you to."

Abed put it on. It was fairly large, but it felt nice to wear anyways.

" _Yes._. You look good." Troy put his hands together. "Go on, spin!"

Abed did a small spin for him. Troy laughed kindly.

"I love it," he said. "Let's get it."

"Wanna find a drive-in theatre and make out after this?"

"Get out of my brain," said Troy smiling. He held out his hand for their handshake.

Abed reciprocated.

After they hit their hands together, Troy maintained his grip on Abed's hand and pulled him in closer to kiss him, right there in the store. And as they walked to the register, Troy continued holding his hand, like it was the most natural and casual thing in the world. Like it wasn't the big deal Abed knew it actually was for both of them.

"Thank you," said Abed. He squeezed Troy's hand. He didn't have to say what for.

***

Abed had just gotten to the best part of his favorite Batman comic book when Troy came into the blanket fort.

"Hi," Abed said. "Are you coming to bed? I can turn the light off."

"Yeah, I am," Troy said, wiping his hands on his jeans. "But, uh, you don't have to turn the light out yet."

Abed set the comic book aside and raised an eyebrow at him. Troy stood at the foot of the bed and began removing his jeans. Abed waggled his eyebrows and Troy laughed quietly.

"No, I... There's something I have to tell you," he said. "Because I want to, but also because I've been talking about it with my therapist"—Abed fought back his instinctive reaction of distrust—"and she thinks... We agreed that I should talk to you about it next. Something serious."

"Okay." He was anxious, Abed observed. He was bouncing with nervous energy and fiddling with his fingers. His lips bunched up like he was biting the inside of his cheek. "What is it?"

Rather than answering, Troy pulled his shirt off slowly.

He wasn't making a show of it, in fact, he was almost acting shy. At first, Abed couldn't think of any reason for this. It wasn't exactly a new sight for Abed to see, even before their relationship began or before Troy's trip.

Actually though, when Abed started to think about it, Troy had been dressing rather conservatively ever since he got back. He was still faithfully wearing his long-sleeved pajamas every night and whenever he had removed his clothes, Abed realized, it had been in the dark.

He wasn't putting on those pajamas now, rather, he climbed into bed and settled next to Abed, above the covers.

"Not that I'm complaining," Abed said, rolling on his side to face him, "because, trust me, I am _not_ complaining, but I'm not really sure what you're supposed to be telling me."

"I have scars, Abed," Troy said plainly. "Um. I don't know if you noticed or not. It's okay if you didn't."

"What do you mean 'scars'?" Abed asked. "They can't be that bad, I would've seen..."

As he said this, his eyes fell to Troy's torso and the wounds that lived there. "Troy."

"It's not your fault you didn't notice," Troy said, as if he could read Abed's mind. "I was hiding as best as I could."

"I..." Abed instinctively put his hand out to move across the scarring before it occurred to him that it may not be polite. The largest scar was jagged, residing diagonally on his side, right where his arm would normally conceal it.

Some part of Abed hoped that once he touched it with his own hands, it would disappear, like reaching out for something in a dream. Instead, the action only made it horrifically real. One wound could be an accident, but as Abed looked closer, he found more, hidden and scattered all across Troy's body. The longer he looked, the more he found, on Troy's arms, his stomach, his chest, probably his back, too, but Abed's afraid to find out. Things like Troy's calloused, rough hands and the small markings in places like above his left eyebrow and below his right ear, which Abed had once thought of as natural consequences of sailing, transformed into signs of something more insidious right before his eyes. Signs Abed had failed to read, at that.

His hand eventually came to rest on the uneven marking just below Troy's knee, his palm pressing flat against it.

"What—" Abed's throat closed unwillingly and abruptly ended his speech. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How could this happen to you?"

His voice was so low it hardly sounded like a question.

"Okay," Troy said, breathing lowly. "Well, um..."

Troy reached his arm out, his hand resting on the back of Abed's neck. His fingers danced their way into Abed's hair and played with it as he stalled.

"I was held hostage," he said finally, the words sounding thoroughly practiced, "by pirates in the Gulf of Mexico."

All of the air left Abed's lungs as he lunged forward, throwing his arms around Troy and pulling him closer. The side of his face ended up pressed to Troy's stomach, just above his belly button, and he clung to him, even though he had tried to prepare himself for receiving that answer.

"That's the other stuff," Abed said. "The thing you didn't want to talk about yet."

"Yeah," Troy said lowly. His fingers still worked through Abed's hair, to the point where Abed wasn't sure who was benefiting from it more. Abed would find it more relaxing if the conversation wasn't so distressing.

"They did this to you," Abed said. He felt Troy nod.

"It's not like Pirates of the Caribbean," Troy said, just nearing a joke. "Or Peter Pan."

"Captain Phillips," Abed whispered. Troy shifted without responding. Abed didn't really expect him to; he felt fairly certain Troy had never seen the movie. Abed fully intended to keep it that way.

Abed moved his arms to better hold him and his fingers ran over the smallest change of texture in his skin – another scar on his back. The difference was so slight, Abed wouldn't have thought anything of it in the past. In fact, he thought shamefully, his hands had probably unknowingly grazed across it hundreds of times before.

"They did this to you," he repeated. "This is why you have nightmares."

Abed was still clinging to his torso so he didn't see it, but he felt Troy swallow. "It's weird to hear someone else say it."

"I'm sorry."

"No," Troy said. "It's okay. It helps, I think. It's supposed to, at least." He paused. "It does."

"That was years ago," said Abed. "All this time—"

"I know, I should be over it, it's just sometimes—"

"No," Abed interrupted him. "I meant it's been all these years and I couldn't help you through any of it."

He felt Troy's breath hitch.

"It's not always bad," Troy said.

"I still wasn't there," Abed said. "You had LeVar," he added, mostly as a way of reminding himself that Troy was not alone.

Troy got quiet.

"Troy?"

"I haven't practiced this part."

"Oh," Abed said. "That's okay. Neither have I."

Troy exhaled softly, just short of a laugh. His hand moved from Abed's hair and instead traced down his spine repeatedly.

"So," he started, "LeVar didn't exactly know the full story. I mean, he got the gist of it, but..."

"What do you mean?" Abed asked, looking up at him.

Troy took another deep breath. "They, um. They kept us separate. Me and LeVar."

"I don't understand."

"They, um... Well..." Troy sighed, sounding exhausted. "They knew who LeVar was. Probably knew he had money, too. And we were separated most of the time, so... I don't know. I never asked him but I got the sense they didn't hurt him too badly."

"But he knew what happened to you." Abed studied the guilty look on Troy's face. "He didn't know."

"He knew I was... _upset_ by it," he said cautiously. "And he was really nice about it. I didn't want him to feel guilty. We had a long couple of years ahead of us." Troy's head settled back onto the pillow. "I didn't really know how to talk about it, either. I still don't really know. I'm just making it up as I go."

"Sometimes improvised moments are the most highly praised. It shows that the actor has a deeper understanding of the character and the larger story," Abed said. "Is that why you didn't tell me? You didn't know how? Or was it you didn't want me to feel guilty that I wasn't there?"

"I don't know, man." Troy rubbed his forehead anxiously. "Probably... Yeah. Probably both."

Abed frowned. "You don't have to feel that way with me."

"It's not always that simple," Troy said, running a finger along Abed's shoulder bone.

"I know," Abed responded. "It's confusing and sometimes frustrating to sort through emotions and to be open with another person. I get that. But I'm reminding you. You don't have to feel that way with me."

Troy put a hand under Abed's chin and guided him into a kiss. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you," Abed said.

"Anyways," said Troy. "I just wanted you to know. And I wanted you to hear it from me, instead of having to notice it one day and worry. I know it doesn't look great."

Abed pulled back and switched characters. He held out his arm and pointed at his own light scarring just above his wrist. "That's a Moray eel," he said, doing his best impersonation of the marine biologist from Jaws. "Bit right through my wetsuit."

It wasn't from a Moray eel, of course, it was from Britta's cat, but that wasn't the way the scene went. He watched Troy's eyes light up with recognition.

He pointed to the long-enduring wound on his side from when he had gotten shoved into a locker a bit too forcefully and had to get stitches, years ago. "That's a Bull shark. Scraped me while I was taking samples. But I have the crème de la crème.Right there." He took his index finger and tapped his chest, right above his heart. "Troy Barnes. He broke my heart."

He laughed, partly because that's what came next in the scene and partly because of the look on Troy's face, a mix of surprise and joy and something else Abed couldn't place. He kissed him again.

"Did I really break your heart?" Troy whispered, their foreheads pressed together and his lips mere inches from Abed's. His voice sounded small.

"Yes," Abed admitted after a moment. "I think you did. But you healed it, too."

***

"That's Troy," Abed said to the stranger sitting next to him.

"Yeah, you mentioned that already," the stranger whispered back.

"Did I?" Abed tilted his head. "Huh."

"Yeah, you did."

"Shhh," Abed said. "I need to watch."

Abed didn't want to miss another second of Troy's routine. When he danced, he was both fluid and precise, graceful and expressive, focused and yet, effortless. Abed sat a few rows back from the stage but he wished he were even closer. It was almost like watching a movie, which was the highest praise Abed could give the performance. He'd buy the whole show on Blu-ray, if he could.

In the lobby afterward, Abed waited for Troy eagerly and ran to him the moment he saw him. He kissed him without another thought.

"Oh! Hi," Troy said. He gripped Abed's forearms. He was still a little sweaty from dancing, Abed noticed. He smiled. "You liked it, then?"

"I loved it." Abed leaned in to kiss him again but found himself interrupted by a passing young woman, who patted Troy's shoulder.

"Hey, really good job today," she said, and then noticed Abed. "You're Abed."

"I am."

"He's always talking about you." She raised her eyebrows at Troy. "You're right, he's very cute. I'll see you later."

She continued and Troy rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

"I'm assuming that was Imani?"

"Yeah," Troy said. "She's heard as much about you as you have of her."

"You should dance more," Abed said, transfixed by the idea. He looked Troy over again. He said it again. "You should dance more."

"Dance for _you_ , you mean?"

_"Yes,"_ Abed said breathlessly. "Yes. Please." He kissed Troy again. "Yes."

Troy laughed. "Alright, then. Guess you _really_ liked it then."

"Yes," said Abed. "Wait. That's not what I meant. I mean, I _meant_ it–"

"Got it."

"–But I meant you should also dance more _here._ "

Troy looked taken aback. "I already come here every week."

"Troy, you were really good today. I don't think I'm just being biased because I'm dating you, you're really, really good. They asked you to perform today, you said it yourself, they don't ask everyone to do that."

"I guess so..."

"You're really good, Troy. And it makes you happy. I know you feel an obligation to the occasional A/C repair, but I don't see you smile the same way you do when you dance. And A/C repair doesn't take up that much time. You should take more classes."

Troy searched for words. "... Imani did tell me about a ballet studio downtown that would be willing to teach me some of the basics."

Abed couldn't help it; he kissed him again.

***

"I love this!" Troy exclaimed, tapping at his cellphone and pointing it out in front of him. "I can't believe I didn't do this while I was sailing."

"You should've seen me and Annie last summer," Abed said. "She didn't get it right away, but once she did, she was even better than I was."

"I'll get there," Troy said, continuing to tap at his phone. The longer it went on, the more agitated he became.

"Troy, it's okay if Pokemon Go isn't your thing," Abed said.

"I'll get there!" Troy insisted, almost hysterically. On his phone, he threw out a final Pokeball and failed to capture a Pokemon. "Damn!"

"Here," Abed said, gently moving in beside him, putting an arm around his waist and moving the arm that held his phone down. "Maybe let's take a break."

Troy made a disgruntled sound and put his phone back into his pocket.

"Dinner and a movie instead?"

"Fine." Troy softened. "Yeah, actually, that sounds nice."

In their apartment, Troy leaned over Abed's shoulder as he prepared their Parks and Rec inspired calzones.

"You know," Abed said, reaching backward to grab at him playfully, "you leaning over me isn't going to make them taste any better."

"I just want to make sure they turn out right!" said Troy. "I saw what happened on the show. They all got food poisoning!"

"Tom didn't. And it was only one time," Abed said. "I promise I will not give you food poisoning. Although if you really want to make sure, you could always just make it yourself."

"I guess," Troy teased, "but it tastes so much better when you make it."

He tried to reach around him and poke the dough. Abed, with a flour covered hand, put his hand on Troy's face and left a smear of flour on his cheek.

"Playful food fight," Abed said. "Excellent trope."

"Yeah, very nice," Troy said, wiping off his face. He sat up on the counter as Abed moved to wash his hands.

"Our story's gotten fairly domestic," Abed said. "I wasn't expecting that."

Troy paused and then shrugged. "I guess so. Would you rather it wasn't?"

"No." Abed dried his hands. "I like it. I just never thought I'd have this kind of plotline. It took me a second to adjust."

"I like it, too," said Troy.

They both paused a moment and then spoke almost at the same time.

"We should still do something weird soon though."

"Oh yeah, for sure. Maybe another round of blazer tag."

"Or more Kickpuncher stuff."

"Yeah." Abed cracked a smile. "That'd be nice, too."

Later, as they sit on the couch with very warm calzones – calzones that will decidedly not poison them – Abed chooses a movie.

"The Big Sick," Troy said. "Like the plague?"

"I don't think so," Abed replied. "I haven't seen it but it was playing at a bunch of festivals earlier this year. I didn't get to see it. It's about how the writers of the movie met each other."

"Are they dating or something?"

"Married," said Abed. "I think like 10 years."

"That's a long time," Troy said. "That's sweet."

Abed nodded. "We met each other 8 years ago."

Troy settled back onto the couch with an existential look on his face. "Time is so crazy."

Abed nodded vigorously. "That's why I much prefer... space." He said the last word in his Inspector voice.

"Sometimes space freaks me out too, though," said Troy. He started to get worked up, and his words came out borderline hysterical. "Like, what's inside of a black hole?! How is that possible?!"

"You know, there's a theory that our entire universe is inside of a giant black hole."

" _What?!_ "

"You know what," Abed said, "don't worry about it. I'll do the space navigating. Let's just watch the movie in the meantime. The very grounded, realistic, true story movie."

The very grounded, realistic, true story movie, they discover, is incredibly emotional.

"He loved her so much," Troy said through tears, "that he was willing to risk his relationship with his whole family. And he _still_ didn't know if she'd get better."

"But Emily did get better," Abed said. He frowned as Troy clutched the sleeve of his hoodie. "Maybe we shouldn't have watched this movie. I didn't know about the themes of familial disapproval."

"It's fine," Troy said, wiping his eyes. "It was a really good movie."

Abed studied him. Troy was crying completely openly, he realized, and without shame. He was allowing himself to feel the full emotions of the story without suppressing them.

"Actually," Troy continued once he had calmed down, "I kind of wished I had seen it sooner. It was nice to see it all work out in the end, even if Kumail's parents didn't get it at first. Does that make sense?"

Abed felt what he was sure was a lightbulb going off above his head. "Yes, actually."

He jumped up from the couch and ran to the kitchen table, where he had left his current notebook, and began to furiously write.

"Movie review?" Troy asked.

"Not exactly. I've had an epiphany," Abed said. "Actually, a few epiphanies."

"Like in the Simpsons movie?" Troy asked.

"...Sure," said Abed.

"What's your epiphany?" Troy settled in next to him. "Or epiphanies, I guess."

"Number One: We're going to have to tell the study group about us soon, just like how Kumail had to tell his parents about how he loved Emily. I don't think there will be too much drama there. Maybe with Shirley, but she'll be fine eventually. Britta will work extra hard to be a good ally."

"Right," Troy said, nodding. "Still a little scary."

Abed swallowed. "Yeah. A little. But they're basically family. It'll be fine."

"Yeah." Troy shook out his nerves and reached for Abed's arm. He squeezed his wrist. "We can Skype and tell them we're... dating. Boyfriends? Partners?"

"I kinda like partners," Abed said. "Because then we can introduce each other like they do on Psych. There's less ambiguity and less room for miscommunication tropes with boyfriends, though."

"We'll just tell them that we're dating, then. Cool. No biggie." Troy squeezed Abed's wrist again.

"You're nervous," said Abed. "We don't have to tell them yet if you don't want to. But they'll probably figure it out eventually if we don't."

"I want to tell them," Troy said. "It just makes me a little nervous. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," said Troy. "What's your other epiphany?"

"The Big Sick," he said, "was an excellent movie."

"As established," said Troy.

"I think that's because it was written by the people the movie's about."

Troy furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"It's Kumail and Emily's story," Abed explained, "as written by Kumail and Emily."

"That's your epiphany?"

"No." Abed stood. He closed his notebook. "The epiphany"—he stopped to give Troy a kiss—"is that I have to do the same thing."


	7. Romantic Debuts, Methods of Comfort, and Fictional Narrative Finales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy and Abed talk with their families, make some references, and prepare for the ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone -  
> last chapter!  
> thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, and/or left kudos. this has not only been the longest fic i've ever completed, but also the longest thing i've written, period. it's been an absolute joy and i've really enjoyed working on it. thank you to all of you who have also enjoyed it, and a special thanks to opal for helping me decided where troy and abed would eventually end up living, ahaha.  
> i do have more stuff planned for this pairing, and possibly a few short things within this same universe, so keep your eyes peeled if that's something you're interested in.  
> and as always, if you enjoyed, leave a comment/kudos and let me know  
> thank you! <3

"Britta, we're starting!" Jeff hollered into the distance, loudly enough that Shirley had to momentarily pull out her earbuds.

"Coming!" Britta yelled as she ran into frame. She bounced on the couch slightly and through the screen, Abed saw her settle in next to Jeff. "Whaddup, study group?"

Abed and Troy shared a fond look. Britta would always be Britta.

"He-llo," Shirley cooed.

"Hi, guys!" Annie waved excitedly at the camera. "God, I always forget we're in different time zones. It's so bright where you guys are."

It was dark in Annie's portion of the screen, save for the light coming from a lamp just behind her head.

"It is a little weird," Britta said. "Being in such different places."

Abed nodded. More than once, he had failed to accurately account for the time differences between them and called Annie and Shirley at inappropriate times.

"Huh. I guess I'm just used to being in a totally weird place with a different time," Troy said. "It's still hard, though. I miss you guys."

Shirley and Annie cooed and Britta held a hand to her heart.

"We miss you too, Troy," she said.

"I miss all of you," Annie agreed.

"Alright, alright, let's not get too bummed out," Jeff said, likely covering for his own feelings, Abed thought. "This is a happy Skype call. Good thoughts only. And we'll see each other soon enough. Definitely Christmas, if not sooner."

Abed nodded. "I got Rudolph on BluRay. It's going to be even better than before."

"Does that really make such a differen—" Shirley started.

"Okay!" Troy said, clearly sensing the way Abed's fist had already started to clench as he prepared to instruct her. "So what else is going on with everyone?"

Jeff and Britta looked at each other. They shrugged. "Not too much here," Britta said.

"Greendale is still Greendale," Jeff said. "I am now expected to teach a class on styling aviator glasses as well as Intro to Law. Craig's idea."

"That's perfect!" Troy exclaimed.

"Wait," Annie said. "I saw on the Dean's twitter that the hallways were flooded and people were building cardboard boats to get to class for a whole week. How is that not the first thing you bring up?"

"Like I said, Greendale is still Greendale."

"Sometimes I can't believe some of the things we were doing," Annie said.

"If you had told me 10 years ago that I'd be playing paintball at community college, I never would've believed you," said Shirley.

"Actually," Abed said, "this is a really good transition."

"Transition to what?" Britta asked.

Troy smiled at him and squeezed his hand just below where the camera picked them up.

"First order of business: I've started writing something," he said. "A pilot episode."

"Abed!" Annie exclaimed. "That's amazing."

"I had no idea you were into planes now, Abed," Britta said. Jeff whispered something in her ear and she blushed. "I know. I mean, I'm just guessing it _might_ be about planes."

"It's not. It's fiction," Abed said. "And it probably won't go anywhere—"

"But it might," Troy interjected.

"—But I thought I would let you guys know," Abed continued. "Because if you ever read it or watch it somehow you may recognize some characters and plot points."

"Uh oh," Jeff said, mostly joking.

"Ooo," said Shirley. "Is there a, um, _Shirley_ character?"

"Sort of," said Abed.

"Sort of?" Shirley said, a bit lower this time. "Now, Abed, I know you wouldn't forget about me in your little script."

"No, I wouldn't," Abed said seriously. "It's not an exact 1-to-1 exchange. But there are clear parallels in a lot of places. Also I haven't named any of them yet, but I will soon. I can't keep calling them Ex Lawyer and Young Woman."

"And Pierce L'astname," Troy added.

Abed nodded solemnly. "30 Rock got to that one first."

"Well, Abed," Jeff said, "I'm sure that show would be adored by nerds and weirdos everywhere."

"That's what I'm going for," Abed said. He quickly added, "If it goes anywhere. It may not."

"Well," Annie said, "there's nothing wrong with being optimistic."

"Agreed!" Troy said strongly.

"I'm trying to be realistic so I'm not disappointed later," Abed said, thinking it through. Troy nudged him. "But I'm hopeful. It's been nice to revisit old footage."

"You should send some of it to me," Annie said. "I'd love to watch those documentaries again."

"Me too!" said Shirley. "My boys are old enough now that they're starting to have doubts about paintball. And half the things Troy and Abed did. I'd love to show them."

"Send it to me too, Abed," Britta said. "You know, having a healthy perspective on your past can really illuminate some of your current issues and how you face them."

"And," Jeff said, immediately jumping on the end of her sentence, "I think we'd really just like to see it again." He gave a small smile. "Send it all to me as well. My personal email, not the Greendale one."

"This is really proving my point about the necessity of the script," Abed said. "I'll send the footage to you later today."

Shirley clapped her hands together excitedly.

"So what's the second order of business?" Jeff asked.

Britta gave him a look. "What?"

Jeff pointed into his webcam. "He said that was the 'first order of business.' If we're conducting this like a business meeting, let's be efficient about it. It's what Frankie would want." He gestured for Abed to continue. "Well?"

"Well," Abed said. "The second order of business is actually the main point of the call today."

Troy and Abed shared a look. Troy smiled giddily at him.

"Abed?" Shirley said, starting to sound concerned. "Troy?"

"Guys?" Britta said.

In Annie's portion of the screen, Abed saw her lean back in her seat and smile knowingly.

Abed lifted their hands, still interlaced, into the view of the webcam. He switched to his best James Roday Rodriguez voice. "My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, Butt Soup Barnes."

Troy waved eagerly at the screen with his free hand.

A brief silence from the group.

"You called us with the main goal of showing us your Psych impression?" Jeff asked.

"Too vague," Abed said to Troy.

"You're right." Troy brought his face close to the webcam. "We're dating!"

"Each other," Abed added, just in case.

The rest of the group reacted all at once.

"What?!"

"Oh!"

"...Huh."

"I knew it," Annie said, looking satisfied.

"You did not know," Jeff said. "No way, Annie, c'mon."

"I lived with them!" Annie cried, getting worked up for a moment and then bringing herself back down. "Okay, I didn't know for sure, but I had a really good feeling about it."

"That is true," Abed said. "She was picking up on stuff from pretty early on."

"Oh, pumpkin!" Shirley said. "That's nice."

"No religious comments," Abed said, pointing a finger at the screen.

"No, I wasn't going to," Shirley said. "Well..."

"Shirley..." Britta started.

"All I was going to say," Shirley asserted with a slight shake of her head, "is that Jesus loves all his children, and so do I. That includes you."

"That was... actually really nice," Britta said.

Troy and Abed nodded. "Thank you, Shirley," said Abed.

"Troy, Abed," Britta continued. "I know there's probably a lot you're going through with this new discovery about your identity..."

Abed raised his hand. "Not new. Well established, just personal."

"Newer," Troy said, raising his own hand. "But, uh, kind of in a better place with it right now."

"Okay, well!" Britta said, waving her hands wildly. "I was _going_ to say that I'm here for you if you ever need someone to talk to and that I support you, but..."

"Britta, I will remember that," Abed said. "Thank you."

"You've always been a really good listener, Britta," Troy said. "And you always helped me whenever I was going through stuff. I'll always remember that."

Britta smiled.

"Okay, I guess I'm the only one who's going to ask questions here? Even though I know we all want to," Jeff said. "When did this happen?"

Abed looked at Troy and shrugged. "4 weeks and 5 days ago."

"But realistically, probably years ago," Troy said. "We just didn't, you know, talk about it to realize. Or kiss. Most of the time."

"Or have sex," Abed added.

Troy looked flushed. "Yeah, or that."

"Okay," Shirley said. "I love you dearly, but there are some things a woman doesn't need to think about her friends doing."

"Also noted."

"And that's why you're house hunting," Jeff deduced.

"Actually, that came before," said Abed. "Like Troy said, we were doing a lot without actually confessing any feelings."

"Well, I can't say it doesn't make sense," Jeff said. "And for what it's worth, I'm happy for you too."

Troy laid his head on Abed's shoulder. "Thanks, Jeff."

"We all are," Britta added.

"Of course," said Shirley.

"Yeah," Annie said. Abed saw her smile, private and relieved, so small he would've missed it if he hadn't known to look for it. "We love you guys."

"We love you, too," said Troy. His hand crept to the small of Abed's back.

"Found family was a trope I loved to watch," Abed said. "I never thought I'd live it, too."

The hand that was still holding Abed's squeezed again. The girls cooed and even Jeff's lips curved upward, just a little.

"I guess that's another thing we owe Greendale," he said. "Strange as it is."

Abed looked at each of their faces on the screen, turned to look at Troy and felt a shifting deep in his chest. It felt warm.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess we do."

***

"You'll like it," Abed said as Troy fixed his tie for him. "I went to the Griffith Observatory not long after I moved here and I really enjoyed it. Super cool space stuff."

"Cool," Troy said, finishing Abed's tie and moving to his own. 

"And I know you've been missing the stars you saw on the boat," Abed said. 

Troy made an expression that made Abed think he was pleasantly surprised. "Yeah, I have," he said. 

"This will be good for that. Also, there's lot of other movies that were filmed there, too. It feels like a bunch of different references at once."

"Should we do a different movie?" Troy asked him. He adjusted the rest of his own outfit and they gazed at themselves in the mirror. "Like Transformers or something?"

"No," Abed decided. "La La Land fits. We'll probably look like annoying tourists, but it fits."

Troy nodded. "I can live with that. I spent most of the last few years looking like an annoying tourist everywhere I went."

In La La Land, Sebastian and Mia watched a showing of Rebel Without a Cause in theaters before going to the Observatory. Unfortunately, there were no showings of that movie anywhere nearby that Abed could find, so for their purposes they saw Kingsman: The Golden Circle for the third time.

To do the homage properly, of course, one of them would have to play Mia and walk into the theater late, stand in front of the screen, and search for the other. This was, without much debate, Troy, because even the thought of walking into a movie late made Abed uneasy.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait very long until Troy was there, blocking the screen at the front of the theater and looking for Abed. He stood to signal his location to Troy and ignored the people booing him, as that was definitely not in the movie.

Troy rushed to his side and took the seat next to him. Abed could practically feel the elevated, excited-yet-anxious energy radiating off of him, even though they both knew exactly what was going to happen that night. Abed was glad for it. He loved how Troy could commit himself so completely to a role. If anyone were watching them instead of the movie screen, Abed thought, they would look perfect, stealing glances at each other and hiding soft smiles.

Troy put his hand down on his knee at exactly the right moment. Abed wanted to yell out to the theater, to tell them _Look! It's cinematic. It's accurate. My boyfriend knows how to hit all the right notes. Also this is my boyfriend,_ but he didn't. Instead, he followed then cue and lowered his own hand, right next to Troy's. The pads of his fingers grazed across Troy's hand as if it were brand new to him. Abed slowly turned his hand over, palm to the sky, and felt Troy's fingers slip into his and interlock.

When he finally tilted his head to kiss him, it was agonizingly slow, until finally they were only inches apart —

"This is where the movie's supposed to malfunction," Abed said, almost against Troy's lips. "And then the lights are supposed to go on and we leave."

"Yeah," Troy said. His eyes darted down and back up again. He licked his lips. "Are you sure you don't want to just stay here a while?"

"I could do that," Abed said, his grip on Troy tightening. He heard a small gasp from Troy in response. "But then it's an incomplete homage. And we don't get to go to the Observatory. You wanted to see the stars."

Troy made a pouting face. "That's true."

"And I don't want to give up on the homage so soon," Abed said. "And I want to dance with you. But it's your call."

Troy softened. "Alright. Let's go." He went back into character. "I have an idea."

Abed shoved down the part of him that cringed at walking out of a movie and followed Troy out of the theater.

They're probably overdressed for the Observatory, Abed realized when they got there, but it had been in enough movies that Abed felt at ease in his suit, even with all the other people trying to watch the pendulum.

"I think they started here and moved to the projector," Troy said, holding out his hand.

"They did," Abed said, accepting it. "But for our sake and for the sake of the people around us, I think the one room is okay."

"A compromise on a movie reference?" Troy asked in playful surprise. He slowly moved behind him and began to lead him in a dance around the rotunda. "Who would've guessed?"

"Well, I have other ways to stay true to the movie."

Abed reached into his pocket and threw a handkerchief into the air. Though in reality, it sank back down to the ground, they both pretended it floated up to the ceiling. They ignored the continued looks of confusion and mild annoyance from the other planetarium visitors.

Abed put his hands on Troy's waist.

"Wait!" Troy said, grabbing Abed's forearms. "I know you're dedicated to the homage, but I can't actually fly."

"Yes, you can." Abed tapped the side of Troy's head with his index finger.

Troy bit his lip and nodded.

Abed returned to the scene and gently lifted Troy, not too far off the ground, but high enough. To Abed and Troy, the rest of the people disappeared and the room turned into a cloudy night sky filled with stars. They were floating.

Troy, still playing Mia but leading the dance, spun Abed around the room. They waltzed through the crowd as if there were no one there, even when one man bumped into Abed's back and then attempted to make conversation with him about it. To them, the sky was empty, save for themselves.

At the end, the scene dissolved into a burst of white light, and Troy and Abed came floating down, still holding each other and still dancing.

"Should we have switched roles?" Troy asked. "I mean, you're the one in the movies and stuff. And I'm the one leading."

Abed thought about it for a moment. "No," he decided. "Sebastian is fixated on jazz as a subject and wants to share his knowledge and passion for it. You could argue I'm a similar way about film. Mia is idealistic and kind-hearted and ultimately a dreamer. That's definitely you."

Troy's grip on Abed's waist tightened. "Oh," he said quietly.

"However," Abed continued, "I think we should stop and go back to being ourselves now."

"Are you sure? I'm having fun." Troy tried his best to twirl Abed, but struggled with his height.

"I am too," said Abed. "We can keep dancing, just as ourselves. This is as far as we should go with these characters."

"Why?" Troy asked.

"Because Mia and Sebastian break up," Abed said. "They have to give up their relationship to follow their dreams, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Troy pulled him in closer and laid his head on his chest.

"Was it something I said?"

"Yeah," Troy said. "It was."

"Oh." Abed frowned. "Bad? I'm sorry."

"No." Troy sniffled. "Good. Really good."

***

One morning, Abed found Troy concentrating very hard on writing something down with one hand and attacking a bowl of Lucky Charms with the other.

"G'morning," Abed said sleepily. He gave Troy a kiss on the cheek, and even though it was routine for them now, it still made his heart flutter a little bit.

"Good morning," Troy said, looking up for a moment and then returning to his project. "We're almost out of milk."

"I think I've got enough," Abed said, making himself a bowl of cereal. "But noted." He slid into the chair next to Troy. "What're you writing?"

"Um... Well... I'm trying to plan what I'm going to say to my mom."

"Oh?" Abed said, raising his eyebrows. "About Thanksgiving?"

"Um," Troy said, "No, actually. About us. About you."

"Oh," said Abed. "I didn't think you were going to do that. At least not yet."

"I wasn't," Troy said. "But we watched that movie, and we told the study group and that was okay, and honestly, I was thinking about what you said the other day..."

"What did I say?"

"At the Observatory," Troy said. "You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me."

"Yes," Abed said matter-of-factly. He processed it on a delay. "Oh, I wasn't proposing to you."

"Oh, yeah, I know—" said Troy.

"When I propose to you, you'll know."

Troy's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I won't propose to you first?"

"I will be proposing to you first," Abed said. "Not yet, but you'll know."

"Okay," Troy said, sounding like he didn't really believe him. "That's what I'm talking about, though. I mean, this isn't a casual relationship. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too."

Abed, at a sudden loss for words, wrapped his hand around Troy's wrist and squeezed.

"So, my mom needs to know, then," Troy continued. He ruffled through his papers. "I'm trying to figure out what exactly I'm going to say to her."

"You're right," Abed said. "I should write to my mom and tell her, too."

"Write to her?" Troy said. "No, I'm calling her. Eventually. I'm just trying to figure out how to say it."

"Oh," said Abed. He reached for a blank paper from Troy's stack. "Well, I'll still write to my mom anyways."

"Really?"

"Why not?" he said, writing out a quick message. "That's how she informs me about important life updates." He slid it across the table for Troy to read. "Quick and simple. That's how she likes it. I can send it today."

_Dear Mom,  
This is from your son, Abed. In case you don't remember, I live in LA now. As of a this year, I'm also living with my boyfriend Troy, who was my friend and roommate from college and is now my boyfriend from college. You'll meet him one day. Take care._

_Your son, Abed Nadir_

Abed's vision went momentarily blurry, either from rage or hurt or fear. It was one of those three, he was pretty sure.

"Abed," Troy said, his hand on Abed's arm acting as a tether to their kitchen, "you don't have to tell her anything if you're not ready to. Or at all. I'm not saying anything to my dad."

"I know. But I will." He considered Troy's statement. "And I should tell my dad, as well. I can tell him today, too."

"Woah," Troy said. "Okay, you don't have to do that."

"Probably better to do it sooner rather than later," Abed said. "I'll call him once I'm done with breakfast."

Troy looked at him slightly dumbfounded. "That soon?"

Abed nodded. "No sense in dragging that plot line out any longer than it needs to be. There's a lot of different coming out tropes, but he can't throw me out of the house because I don't live there. And I'm not being forcibly outed by someone I used to consider a friend, because I'm the one telling him. Other than that there's the religious angle, but I'm"—Abed clenched his jaw and swallowed bitterly—"prepared to handle that. Or any other trope."

Troy looked at him in continued disbelief. "You're sure?"

He nodded.

Even so, Abed's cereal sat in the bowl long enough that it had become thoroughly soggy before he finally finished it.

Troy eyed the empty bowl warily. "There's no shame in waiting."

"Right," Abed said, putting away the bowl and retreating into the blanket fort anyways.

He positioned himself upright on the bed and tapped his father's name in his contact list with trembling fingers. He shuffled his feet against the ground as it rang.

"Hello?" Gobi said over the phone.

"Hi, Dad. It's Abed."

"Yes, I know, Abed. I have caller ID. And you are my only child."

"Oh. Right." He took a deep breath. "Anyways, it's time for us to have a conversation now."

"...Okay."

"An important conversation," Abed said. "Plot changing, potentially relationship altering."

"Is everything okay?" Gobi said after a moment.

"I'm okay," Abed said, "because Troy is back now. His trip is over."

"...Yes, I know," Gobi replied. "You came to Greendale and ate falafel."

"Right," Abed said. "Right. Anyway, the follow up to that is that I'm okay because we're not just living together, we're dating each other. Romantically."

Another pause.

"Well, say something," Abed said. "Wait, actually, not yet. There's lots of different coming out tropes and I know there's a lot of different notes that this one could hit, so let me just say this here at the forefront: I really love him, it's not just a phase or leftover college experimentation. If we're going to go down the religion path, nothing can change my mind on this." He paused again and Gobi said nothing, likely either fuming with anger or just unsure if Abed was finished. "I'm sorry if this is a shock to you but it is how I feel. Okay, say something."

"Abed, I think you forget that I spent years listening to you talk about Harrison Ford," Gobi said slowly. "I'm not... I've had time to prepare for this conversation."

"Oh," Abed said, feeling small but not exactly bad. "I didn't really know you were listening."

"And I met Troy," Gobi continued. "I saw your old apartment. I saw how he understands you." He paused. "He does understand you."

"Yes," said Abed, clutching the phone closer to his ear.

"And you love him," said Gobi. "He loves you?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"He tells me often and he acts like it," Abed said. "All signs point to yes."

"He loves you," Gobi repeated. He sighed. "Then don't let him get away."

"I know, Baba, I won't."

"No, Abed, you say that, but I mean it. Don't let him get away from you."

Abed felt a rush of air leave his lungs. "Okay."

Abed heard the sound of his father shifting in his seat. "Other than that, you're good? You're taking care of yourself? Eating well?"

"Yes," Abed said. "I'm working a lot. Writing a little. Troy's going to dance studios."

"That's good," said Gobi.

There was a pause in the conversation. Abed rubbed his feet against the floor.

"You know, I have a lot of customers tell me they like your show," Gobi continued, breaking the silence.

"How do they know where I work?"

"I tell them."

"Okay," Abed said through the sudden stinging sensation in this throat. "I should go now. Just wanted to call and tell you."

"Okay," Gobi said. "Goodbye, habibi. I will talk to you later."

"Bye," Abed said. He hung up the phone and left the blanket fort.

Troy looked up at him immediately from his spot on the couch. "Hey, I wasn't trying to listen, but it sounds like— Oh. Hey."

In the middle of him speaking, Abed had rushed to the couch and curled up next to him, his head coming to rest in Troy's lap. Troy put a hand in his hair. "Hey," he said again.

Abed let the emotion deflate out of him with one long exhalation. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Good?" Troy asked. "Or... not so good?"

"Good," Abed said. "Better than I thought."

"That's good." Troy's hand curled in the spot just behind Abed's ear. "That's really good. I'm glad."

Abed nodded, still in Troy's lap. Though a sense of relief was still spreading through his body, he still felt suddenly exhausted.

"You wanna take a lazy day and watch TV in our pajamas all day?"

"Yes," Abed said. "Cartoons. It's Saturday."

"Sounds perfect," Troy said. He reached for the remote and Abed settled further into place. 

***

"It's not perfect," Abed said. He nervously tried to read over Chihiro's shoulder. "And I'm still editing it. It's not done. And more story will come with more episodes, of course."

"Shh," she said. "I'm still reading."

She flipped a page and continued reading Abed's script.

Abed fidgeted in his seat and forced himself to be quiet until finally, she turned over the last page and looked up at him.

"It's not done," Abed said quickly. "I'm still editing. But it's gone through a few different drafts and someone needed to see it other than Troy because I know I need more input and he thinks it's awesome. I don't think he's lying but I kind of suspect he would think that even if it was terrible. And I've struggled with screenwriting alone in the past, I tried to write a movie called Police Justice and it turned out terrible even after I got a real former policeman to help with the dialogue and then turned it into a Chris-Pratt-esque sci-fi drama. But this is important and I need it to be good, so..."

Chihiro smiled. "Abed, I think it's a really strong pilot. Like, _really._ "

Abed felt a rush of relief. "Cool. Cool, cool, cool."

"I mean, obviously you can keep editing," she said, "but it's already pretty good. It's a really strong start."

"Thanks," Abed said. "It's one of the most personal things I've ever written. Except for documentaries, but I don't really write those so much as edit a story together. And maybe a short film about my parents' divorce but I also hid a lot of that in the subtext and in animal metaphors."

"This character," Chihiro said, tapping at one of the names on the page, "that's based on Troy, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Abed. "To a degree."

"I thought so. All of his stage directions are very... gentle."

"A lot of the character are based around people I know," he explained. "My college study group, actually."

Chihiro sat back in her chair. "I see."

"It's important to me," Abed said, "that I can recognize the characters and that they're in situations that I've been in."

Chihiro raised an eyebrow. "You always struck me as more of a sci-fi fantasy kinda guy."

"Yes," he said. Based off the look on her face, she wanted a more complete answer. "Fictional narratives are the blueprint. At least, they are for me. And that goes for a lot of other people, not just me. I don't see a lot of narratives about people that look and act and think like I do. TV is comfort. Or it should be," he explained. "And Troy agreed."

"Oh," Chihiro said, a little surprised. "Really personal, then."

"Yes." Abed exhaled, slightly winded from the emotional nature of the conversation. "But that's where you come in."

"Well, like I said, it's really strong," she said. "If you get the opportunity to pitch it, I think you should."

"Thank you," Abed said, cocking his head to the side, "but ideally we'd both be pitching it."

Chihiro made a face, her mouth open and agape, which Abed would describe as TV static if it were himself. "Me?"

"Yes," he said matter of factly. "I know I can't be the only one who feels underrepresented. To reach the right audience, there should be multiple people's input and personal experiences shaping the narrative other than just my own. I've trusted your judgement on narrative arcs and pop culture ever since we talked about SNL—"

"David S. Pumpkins!" Chihiro interrupted eagerly.

"Exactly. And I need someone to be able to look at my personal plot lines objectively while we write them. I would obviously be biased."

Chihiro looked at him warily, but excitedly. "Are you asking me to write with you?"

"Yes," said Abed. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should've been more clear. Do you want to?"

"Yes!" she said quickly. "Yes, Abed, oh my God, yes. This is amazing! Yes, of course I'll write with you."

"Cool," Abed said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Cool, cool, cool."

He went home feeling lighter than he had at the start of the day.

Troy wasn't home yet, Abed discovered after calling his name a few times and receiving only rattling from Hamtaro's cage in response. Abed made a lap around the apartment, heated up a bowl of buttered noodles, and still found himself bouncing with residual excitement and adrenaline. He forced himself to sit down with his noodles, put on his glasses, and start to edit together some of the footage he and Troy had shot over the weekend.

Sometime later, the doorknob jiggled. Abed pulled off his headphones and watched Troy walk through the door, his leotard still on and tucked into what he knew was his favorite pair of tearaway pants.

"Hey," Troy said, plopping down on the couch next to him. He gave him as kiss as a quick greeting, tried at first to sound casual, and immediately became unable to contain himself. "Well? What'd she think?"

"She said she really liked it," Abed said. "She said it was really strong."

"Of course she did! I knew it," Troy said satisfactorily. "Didn't I know it?

"You knew it," said Abed. "She's going to help me edit the pilot and then develop a seasonal arc."

"That is so cool," Troy said. "It's cool to think that like... There's other people out there like us? Who act like us and think like us and they otherwise might not even know that we exist, but now they get to see what we're all about, you know?"

"Well, yes," Abed said. "Exactly. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. It's not a show yet, it's just a pilot script. It hasn't even been picked up or anything."

"It will," Troy said confidently. "I just know it. I know these things, remember?"

"Yeah, I guess you do," Abed said.

"Did Chihiro say anything about my character?" Troy asked. "I mean, I know it's not _me_ –"

"It's an homage to you," Abed said. "And she did. She said she could tell it was you, because I wrote you gently."

Something sparkled in Troy's eyes. "Really?"

"Really."

Troy brought his feet up onto the couch and curled in on himself. He made a small noise of discomfort and Abed looked at him inquisitively.

"I'm fine," Troy explained. "Just been dancing, you know." Abed opened his mouth to say something, but Troy was already moving on. "You've got your glasses on."

Abed touched the side of them. "Yeah. I was editing. Should I take them off?"

"No. I like it," Troy said into the crook of Abed's neck, where his head now resided. He faced the laptop screen, still open on Abed's lap. "What're you editing? Kickpuncher remake?"

"No." Abed tilted the screen so Troy had a better look. "More house footage. I want to have it all in one place. Here."

He pulled out his headphones and played him a small clip, specifically footage of the bathroom in a Santa Monica house they had looked at that weekend.

"I liked that one," Troy said. "It was..."

"Manageable?"

"Home-y," Troy said. "But yeah, manageable, too. Not too much. But enough."

"I know what you mean," Abed said.

Troy tried to kick his legs out in front of him again and winced in pain. Abed gave him a firmer look.

"Just sore, I promise," Troy said through a grimace. Abed put his hand next to Troy's, where he was grabbing at his thigh, spread his fingers and pressed into the muscle. Troy winced again. "Really sore. Damn."

He stumbled to his feet and began hobbling toward the bathroom. "I'm just gonna try and take a shower." He stumbled again as he took another step.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine," Troy said, straightening himself out. "Imani says I should get a foam roller."

"We can do that," Abed said as Troy disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the shower start and Abed played the clip of the Santa Monica bathroom again.

"This house has a tub," Abed called out to him. "Maybe that would be better."

"What?" Troy called back. He peeked his head out from behind the door. "Are you coming?"

Abed had never abandoned his laptop so quickly.

***

Sleep became a well-awaited (and yet somewhat complicated) ritual for the two of them.

On one hand, some nights were nice. They were peaceful. They could be close together, more often than not with one of them curled up in the other's arms, with Abed listening to Troy's breathing as he drifted off to sleep.

Sometimes in his sleep, Troy would reach a hand out for him, grabbing his arm or squishing his cheek and Abed would blink away his dream to gaze back at him, the sleeping mess that had wanted him without even realizing it.

Sometimes Troy would say something, and Abed would be so sure what his mumbled _"Abed? It's in... the hallway. I need it. Don't let it get away"_ (or something similarly nonsensical) was actually genius and completely logical, so he'd hang onto every word only for Troy to remember nothing in the morning.

Sometimes, Troy would laugh and tell him about the things _Abed_ had said during the night, how he had flailed himself all over the bed, how he had stolen the covers only to throw them over the side of the bed later when he had gotten too warm. But he relayed the stories kindly and they would laugh over cereal and pancakes in the morning.

Those nights were good. They were a calm Abed had barely dared to dream of before.

On the other hand—

 _"Fuck,"_ Troy said lowly, his eyes flying open and scanning the room wildly, as they usually did on nights like these. All four of his limbs kicked out, patting and searching the bed until he found Abed. Rather than waiting it out in the kitchen, Troy held him tightly, as Abed had told him to do, and Abed hoped it was without any more guilt for doing so.

Troy let out a puff of air and pressed his face into Abed's chest. Abed could feel his arms shake slightly where they pressed against his skin. He shook himself awake and present.

"Troy," he said the moment he found his voice. Abed said his name in tandem with the downstroke of his hand down Troy's back.

"I'm in LA," Troy managed some time later.

"You are."

"With you," he added, like he always did. "With Abed. I'm in Abed's apartment in LA."

"Yes," Abed said.

"Okay," Troy said, still breathing heavily but less desperate than he had been only a moment ago. "Okay."

"Okay," Abed said, still holding him close.

"What time is it?" Troy asked. Abed's heart sank; he knew where this was heading.

"That doesn't matter."

"That means it's late," Troy said, and then silence.

As the silence stretched on, Abed triumphantly thought that they had avoided the worse.

"I'm sorry," Troy said, crushing that thought. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's alright," Abed said, because it was. Interrupted sleep was better than waking knowing Troy had needed him and he wasn't there.

"I know I'm not supposed to apologize for that," Troy said. "I'm working on it, I really am."

"I know you are," Abed said, still fighting the sleepy sound in his voice. "You're working on it. All of it. That's character growth."

"Yeah, well," Troy said, "it's easier with you."

With that, he rolled over and positioned himself so that he was being cradled with Abed's arms pulled tight around his chest. He grasped one of Abed's hands and Abed thought faintly that his arm was probably going to lose sensation, but that was a problem for the future.

"A lot of it is easier with you," Troy added after a moment. "And, you know, counseling."

Abed watched the rise and fall of his breath even out over time. He studied the way his shoulders slowly relaxed, releasing tension and easing into Abed's grasp.

Abed wiggled in closer so that his lips came to rest at the back of Troy's neck. He had to duck his head a little to do so, but it wasn't so bad. Almost comfortable, even.

He found himself increasingly glad that he was facing Troy's back and not his face as his mind turned over Troy's words, working through them like a puzzle.

When he spoke, it was without any warning and directly into Troy's skin.

"Maybe I should try it again."

"Mm?" Troy flexed slightly, but maintained his position. "Try what?"

Abed swallowed dryly. "...Therapy."

He felt Troy start to shift as if he were going to turn around and then stop himself. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Abed breathed.

"What makes you say that?" Troy asked carefully.

"I trust you," Abed decided slowly. He turned his head to the side and pressed his cheek against the back of Troy's shoulder. "And you say it helps you."

"It does."

"It didn't feel like it helped me when I was a kid," Abed said. "It felt... scary. And foreign. And invasive."

"It's still a little scary sometimes," Troy said.

"But you still go anyways," Abed continued. "Because it helps you."

"Yeah."

"So maybe," Abed started, still working on putting his thoughts into words. "Maybe I could do it, too."

Troy finally gave in, wiggled, and rolled over to face Abed. "I think that's a good idea."

"Yeah?" Somewhere in the shift, Abed ended up with his hand on Troy's neck.

"Yeah." The corners of Troy's lips curved upwards. "You know, I could always go with you. I could be in the lobby the whole time."

Abed considered it. He nodded. "I'd like that," he said. "At least at first."

Troy gave him a full smile. "Okay. Sounds like a plan to me." He moved in closer, repositioning again so that he was resting his head on Abed's chest again, his arms around his waist. Their legs tangled together. "But let's talk about it more in the morning."

Abed put his chin of the top of his head. He felt Troy stifle a yawn and privately celebrated the small victory of Troy wanting to go back to sleep.

"Okay," he said. "In the morning, then. Good night."

"Sweet dreams."

***

Troy let out a small yelp of surprise as Abed popped the champagne and settled back down on the picnic blanket to pour some for the both of them.

"Here," Abed said, pointing his camera at Troy, who still stood in front of him. "Say something into the camera."

Troy looked beautiful like this, the sunlight hitting him just right and the wind blowing through his open button-up. He gazed back at Abed, who was feeling more and more grateful for his camera by the second. "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything," said Abed.

"Um..." Troy said. As he thought about it, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, which gradually shifted into a body roll as he danced for Abed and the camera.

"This is really good," Abed said. "Technically you didn't say anything, but I almost like it better this way."

"Mmm," Troy hummed, grabbing his glass and flopping back on the blanket. "I feel good. I'm glad the choice is out of the way."

"Well," Abed said, turning off his camera and setting it aside, "I don't want to get ahead of ourselves. There's a lot that can go wrong still. It's definitely not our house yet."

"No," Troy said. "But it will be."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

"I just know these things, remember?" Troy said, propping his head up with his hand. "I may not know a lot, but I know these things."

"You know a lot." Abed scooted closer and Troy shifted to rest his head on Abed's legs. "More than you realize, I think."

Troy made a small sound of either surprise or contentment.

"I like Santa Monica," Abed said, gesturing around them. He paused. "I want it to work."

"It will," Troy said, ever optimistic and confident.

"Alright," Abed said. "If you say so."

"I do."

They turned outward to watch the ocean. Abed listened to the waves and popped a couple of Sour Patch kids into his mouth. A seagull landed a bit too close for comfort, so Abed pulled the food closer to him and went back to watching the waves.

It hit him rather suddenly, and he examined Troy's facial expressions. "I'm sorry," he said, "if the beach is bringing up bad memories."

Troy sat up. "It's okay."

"But if it's not—"

"No, really," Troy insisted. "I would've told you if it wasn't."

Abed raised an eyebrow.

"Really," Troy insisted. "You make it easier to talk about, you know."

Abed felt a rush of relief. "Okay."

"I like the sound," Troy continued, pointing a finger out at the sea. "It used to help me get to sleep sometimes."

"Huh." Abed filed away that knowledge for future use.

Troy held up a few Sour Patch Kids experimentally. Abed opened his mouth and leaned back, awaiting the candy as Troy threw it toward him. 3 pieces hit his face and 2 of them fell to the ground, but the last one landed directly in his mouth and Abed chewed it happily.

"Still got it!" Troy said.

Abed washed it down with another sip of champagne.

"We should go to San Francisco soon," said Abed. "Elroy wants to meet you. He's still a little confused on who you are exactly, but he does want to meet you."

"Cool. I'd like that." Troy looked out to the ocean again. "And you know, once we get the Childish Tycoon up here, we could always go somewhere else, too."

Abed blinked in surprise. "Oh."

Troy made a face at Abed. "You don't want to."

"I didn't think you would," Abed said. "You want to go sailing again."

Troy looked taken aback. "I mean... Yeah. Sometimes. Yes."

Abed pressed his lips together. "Hm."

"It felt... really good to be good at something," Troy explained. "To know what I was doing."

"You're good at a lot of things," Abed said.

"It doesn't always feel like that," Troy said. "And there was a learning curve, of course. A really big learning curve. But once I got it..." He shook his head. "I kinda want you to see what it's like."

Abed fiddled with the edge of their blanket. He stared down at it.

"Abed," Troy said. In the corner of his eye, Abed could see him tilt his head. "What're you thinking?"

"I don't know," Abed said, his tone even. He continued to pick at the blanket.

Abed heard rustling as Troy shifted closer to him. "I wouldn't go anywhere far. I wouldn't be gone long." A light hand on Abed's knee. "And I wouldn't go anywhere without you."

The hand on the blanket's edge stilled. "Both of us."

"Yeah, buddy." Abed looked up to see a small smile on his face. "Both of us. Together."

"I see."

"You know, I thought about you everyday," Troy said. "Everywhere I went. I used to pretend like I was talking to you. Showing you what I was doing. Telling you all about it."

Abed paused. "Where would we go?"

Troy's smile widened. "Anywhere you want. If you wanted to, I mean."

Abed paused again and nodded curtly.

"Really? You'd really want to?"

"Yeah," Abed said. "It could be fun. Just us two."

"It could be really fun. Nothing nearly as long," Troy added quickly. "Or as far."

"Completely fair," Abed agreed.

"But somewhere cool. I'll figure something out," Troy said. He waggled his eyebrows. "I can show off all my sailing skills."

"O Captain, my Captain," Abed said adoringly.

Troy laughed. "Alright. It's a date. Sometime."

"Sounds good to me."

Troy looked at him. He crossed his arms over himself defensively. "There's something else I'd like to do, also."

"Finally build the human zoo?" Abed guessed.

"No. Well, yes, of course, but that's not what I meant."

"Actually go to Legoland?"

"Okay," Troy said. "These are really good ideas, and yes, but no. That's not it."

"What is it, then?"

"I want to donate some money to Sidran Institute. For PTSD," Troy said, exhaling sharply and running his hands through his hair. "Which is what I have."

"Oh," Abed said. "Well, yeah. That sounds like a good idea."

"You think so?"

"I know so," he said, trying to match Troy's previous burst of confidence.

"It's like your script, you know?" Troy said. "You wanted to make it for people like you. Or like us, I guess. It's the same kind of thing, I think."

"That makes sense," Abed said. "It's a good idea."

Troy smiled again. "Cool."

"Cool, cool, cool."

Abed was suddenly overcome with emotion and he reached out for Troy.

"What's wrong?" Troy asked from underneath Abed's grasp.

"I don't know," Abed said, his chin on Troy's shoulder. "It just feels like an ending."

"Isn't that good?" Troy asked. "If it feels like an ending, that means the conflict's over. Right? And the goal's been met."

"Yes, usually," Abed said. "But that doesn't mean the ending is a good thing." Troy said nothing. "I don't want it to end," Abed added lowly.

Troy thought about it. "Then maybe it's not _the_ ending, but just _a_ ending."

Abed tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It's like," Troy continued, "maybe there's lots of little endings in life, so that's what you're feeling now. A little ending. But there's also lots of beginnings. It's like a bunch of little stories, so the little endings are less sad."

Abed furrowed his eyebrows. "Maybe."

"I mean, think about it." Troy squeezed Abed's hand. "If there hadn't been an ending to my trip, then I'd still be out there. I wouldn't have been able to come back."

A low whine started in the back of Abed's throat at the thought.

"But there was," Troy said quickly, calming him. "And I'm here now. So maybe it's like... just another cool new part that's about to happen. Not just an ending."

"Lots of endings," Abed said, mulling it over, "and lots of beginnings. Different character arcs. More rising action, various climaxes..."

"Um, yeah." Troy blushed. "I don't know what that has to do with it, but yes."

Abed leaned against him. "Okay. I can handle that."

"Yeah?" Troy asked, turning his head toward him.

A smile tugged at Abed's lips. "Yeah."

He leaned forward, closed the gap between them, and kissed him.

"I love you," Abed said.

Troy smiled. "I love you."

Abed extended his hand out into their special handshake, tapping above his heart and Troy's hand in unison. When they finished, his hand moved in around Troy's waist and held him as Troy moved in even closer, his head leaning on Abed's shoulder in the way he loved so much.

He braced himself for the ending and eagerly awaited the next part.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, as always, if you enjoyed, please leave a comment or kudos!


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